


bridge us together

by fromthefarshore



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Original setting, Post-War, Slice of Life, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthefarshore/pseuds/fromthefarshore
Summary: After his friend's invitation, Bokuto Koutarou comes to work in a small repair shop in Fukuroubashi neighbourhood.Bokuto expects to find a new life here, a place where he truly belongs and can be happy.What he doesn't expect is meeting Akaashi Keiji.





	1. -one-

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!  
> After weeks and months of thinking, I decided it's time for another longish fic. I've had this idea for quite a while already, and finally started working on it.  
> I got inspired by Japanese movie "Always: Sunset on Third Street"; it's a story about people living in post-war Japan. (I really recommend it!)  
> The events are not related to actual history of Japan. Please think of it as original setting in a thought-up Fukuroubashi district (Fukuroubashi comes from owl+bridge).  
> I hope you will enjoy it!

Everything starts with a letter. Easily flowing characters written in black ink on yellowish paper that smells of dust; good hand that Bokuto Koutarou would recognize even without a name stuck at the bottom. It's a simple message, however, the way drawn kanji characters twirl, nearly connect, but not really in the slightly hurried strokes of a brush, make it seem like a story of some kind, just like all of Kuroo Tetsurou's writing.

What Bokuto Koutarou doesn't know yet is that it is a story indeed, the very beginning of it. Except from now on it's going to be him who tells it. He's never been good at writing, he could never put his thoughts into nice sentences, never could write down a page without missing something out or making a little mistake along the way. However, this story doesn't need ink and paper, doesn't need expensive writing machines. Bokuto hasn't realised it yet, but he's going to write the story down in his mind, in memories of his and people around him, because it's the story of him and it's the story of what's hidden away from everyone else's eyes. And even Kuroo Tetsurou, a name that appears next to the titles of the popular stories in the literary magazines, could never tell it better than Bokuto himself. All he does, is just an introduction to the story. All he does, is stirring things up.

 

_Dear Koutarou,_

_The faint smell of plum blossoms is tickling my nose, and the cats near the shrine are starting to bathe in the warmth of the sunshine. I am hoping to hear the nightingales soon, when Fukuroubashi is engulfed in the daytime haze of the spring._

_I hope your dear Mother and you are both healthy and well. I am writing to you, for there is a place that could take you in for working. It is but a small repair shop, however, the manager is a kind man. He would give you a place to stay and you could save up money to send to your Mother as well. I believe that in these difficult times, it is an offer you should not decline._

_I am adding the contacts of Mister Sawamura; I hope it will be of help to you._

_I am hoping to hear from you soon and perhaps, see you in person as well._

_Take care of yourself._

_Always your friend,_

_Kuroo Tetsurou_

 

Bokuto folds the paper and puts it in his pants pocket, taking a deep breath. He looks around the Nishi-Fukurou station, big and crowded, and tries to find a little black car that Mister Sawamura has said he will come to pick Bokuto up with or the man himself. The sun is high in the sky, but the chilly wind is biting Bokuto's hands and cheeks. He hopes he doesn't have to wait much longer.

He uses the time to make a short call to his mother in a public telephone box, telling her he's fine and she doesn't need to worry, he will write her letters once a week as he's already promised. Even when he's done with the call and goes back to looking around the station, there's nothing. He looks at the clock near the entrance, and realises belatedly that he's arrived with an earlier train than he's planned. He's just about to go sit on an old bench nearby when a familiar figure appears in the crowd. Bokuto straightens up, hardly fighting a smile.

"Tetsurou?"

"Koutarou! Good day!"

Kuroo seems shorter than he actually is, cowering because of the wind as he wears a thin yukata. His black hair is messed up in the wind. Bokuto laughs and walks up to Kuroo. He opens his mouth to comment about Kuroo being ridiculous and not wearing a scarf, but he notices another man standing next to his friend.

Bokuto bows his head.

"Good afternoon. My name is Bokuto Koutarou. Very nice to meet you, Mister Sawamura."

The man, shorter than Bokuto and Kuroo, bows his head as well, a little smile appearing on his face.

"Sawamura Daichi. Just Daichi is fine. Pleased to meet you. My father was the one you talked to, but he could not come today."

Bokuto nods and then, he looks at Daichi. He's got short hair and is well built, perhaps both from the old days and constant work in the garage.

"Thank you for coming to pick me up," he says, lowering his eyes, and hears Kuroo snicker at his side. "I will do my best to be of use in the repair shop."

"I am sure you will be," Daichi says, a pleasant smile playing on his face. His features are rough, but there's softness in his eyes, and Bokuto decides he likes Daichi. He looks to be a good person, and that is something Bokuto wants to have more of in his life. Besides, Daichi seems to be friends with Kuroo as well, and that makes Bokuto like the man even more. It's a nice start.

"Let's get moving." Kuroo yawns and stretches before picking up one of Bokuto's bags. Daichi takes the other bag, leaving Bokuto with empty hands.

Bokuto takes a moment to look at his palms. They're clean now, but Bokuto imagines the oil and dirt on them, the callouses that will get a bit worse again, and he smiles. The fate is gifting him with a chance to do what he likes, and Bokuto is ready to start this new page of his life. He takes a deep breath and starts walking, following after Kuroo and Daichi.

He has a feeling that he'll belong here.

-

The repair shop is small, more of a garage that is connected to the house than a separate building, but from the moment he lays his eyes on the faded out sign 'Sawamura's auto', Bokuto loves it. The windows of the glass door are dirty with dust and there's a faint smell of oil inside, even when there's no car to be repaired.

It's located right in front of Kuroo's house on a little street of Fukuroubashi district, close to the actual Fukuroubashi bridge that leads to the other side of the river. Bokuto hasn't seen it yet, but he's heard from Kuroo that the bridge is beautiful, it wasn't damaged during the war and it's believed to bring luck to people who cross it. Bokuto hopes that it's not only empty talks.

Daichi's mother meets them at the entrance to the house, leading Bokuto to the room he's going to stay in from now on and prying into his life with constant, but not too irritating questions. He's offered a 4.5 tatami room with a build in wardrobe and a futon inside of it. There's a pleasant scent of nature in the air as it seems the tatami mats were changed not too long ago. Bokuto hums in content and thanks the woman for the kindness. She also hands him bedding and uniform for work - a dark grey mechanic's costume with a zipper on the front, a little crow that was also on the sign outside engraved on the chest pocket. Bokuto thanks again, carefully placing it all on his bags. Daichi urges him to settle in fast or leave it for later; they want to show him around before it gets dark and cold.

"And then," Kuroo adds, a grin appearing on his face, "we will hit the local bar. I still have some sake left in my bottle there," he intones, satisfied. Daichi laughs at this.

"I'm not so sure about that," he comments, but Kuroo shushes him, saying he's been saving this one up for Bokuto.

"I got the last bottle of it," he explains. "Excellent drink, but there seem to be some issues with production and delivery as for now. So the owner changed it to another brand, sadly. But luckily for you, I left a few sips of it to try out."

"It better be good," Bokuto says. He's no expert on sake, but he likes to enjoy a nice drink, especially after a long day. Besides, he's never actually gone to a bar as back in the countryside everyone just gathered at someone's home. There were never that many people, though, especially of Bokuto's age, therefore, the idea of common place he can visit with Kuroo and maybe with Daichi sends a nice wave of excitement through his body. He smiles. Kuroo smirks at him as if knowing more to the story.

"I assure you, it's the best," he says and even Daichi nods in agreement.

-

Bokuto does a lot of greeting in the next hour when they're going around the neighbourhood. The street is dusty, trampled down gravel is solid under their feet. A pleasant chunking sound reaches their ears as the wooden geta sandals hit against the ground with every step. Bokuto tries to keep the names and faces stored together in his mind, but they're slipping away the moment Kuroo introduces him to someone new they meet on their little walk around.

"You'll learn it all in a few days," he says, hiding his hands in his yukata sleeves. "It's a small community, everyone knows each other."

"And everything about each other," Daichi adds with a little laugh. "Who makes the best rice cakes, who sleeps until midday, who is planning to go on a date with who," he glances behind Kuroo and lets out a snort, looking back at Kuroo, "or who usually brings sweet candies."

At those words a little kid runs to Kuroo, yelling "Mister Navy-blue" at him as he flings to his weather-stained dark blue yukata. Kuroo laughs, glancing at Daichi and then to Bokuto before he looks down at the kid.

"I don't have any candies for you, Shouyou," he says and a little boy pouts. "But you can ask my good friend here - Bokuto Koutarou. He might have some." He winks at the boy and the other smiles widely, looking up at Bokuto.

"Mister Bokuto? Nice to meet you, I am Hinata Shouyou! Do you have any candies?"

Bokuto chuckles, checking his pockets to find a metal box with little mint candies. Kuroo knows he always carries it with him, and a victorious smile tugs at his lip corners.

"Here you go, little man," Bokuto says, offering a candy to Hinata. The boy takes one and jumps in excitement when he pops it in his mouth.

"Yummy! Thank you!"

And he's off, as suddenly as he's come, waving to 'Mister Mint-candies', 'Mister Navy-blue' and 'Mister Black-car' as he runs down the street and disappears behind one of the houses. Daichi lets out a deep sigh.

"Get used to this," he says. Bokuto thinks, he can do that. The countryside where he's lived is built on very similar principles; everyone knows each other, everyone is like a family, especially after the difficult years of war. However, Fukuroubashi gives off a slightly different vibe. It is bigger, more lively. There are less traces of hardship on peoples' faces; they are successfully moving on, beginning a new, better life.

A lot of things seem to be happening in the street, a lot of new experiences are waiting for Bokuto, and he thinks, he's ready for that.

-

The sun is already setting when they walk to the lovely park near the shrine at the end of the street. The plum trees are blooming, but the vivid dark pink blossoms dyed in orange hues of the sun are slowly getting ready to sleep for the night. Daichi had to go home to help his father, so now it's only Kuroo left with Bokuto. They're eating yakitori bought from a little neighbourhood shop, the smell and warmth of it pleasant in the chilly evening.

Kuroo is sitting with his eyes closed to the last rays of the sun, bathing in it much like a couple of cats lying on the stairs that lead to a shrine up on the hill. He seems happy, content being here, the only shadow of pain he's experienced years ago being the little scars splattered across his left arm where the smithereens hit him after a sudden explosion. The time has passed, leaving the frightful war experiences behind, but it's still vivid in Bokuto's memory, the wounds deep inside still sting from time to time as some of the changes in their lives are permanent, same as Kuroo's scars.

He doesn't like to think about the war, but sometimes he can't stop himself. He wonders what would their lives be like if it has never happened. Maybe Kuroo and he would still be living in the same little town that they had to flee from when the bombings came, maybe Bokuto would be working in his father's shop now, maybe Kuroo would have become a sportman he wanted to be. Maybe it would have been peaceful, all the time, just like it is here, in Fukuroubashi, right now.

"It's peaceful here," Bokuto says as if he wants to check if that's actually true. However, unspoken words of war tearing this country apart all the years ago linger in the air. Kuroo opens his eyes and looks at Bokuto.

"I hope you will find your peace here as well," he says, a small, bitter smile coming to his face. "It's time to leave the past behind."

"The past reminds me of itself every time I look in the mirror," Bokuto says, but his voice is calm, a note of acceptance in it. He's been lucky enough not to get hurt in the midst of shootings and bombings, fires and fights, but the war left a permanent mark on him as well. The stress and pain of the events around him have affected him from inside, ripping him off the rich black colour of his hair, leaving it grey, just like the land looked like covered in the ash.

"It took time, but I found my sanctuary in writing," Kuroo says, eating the last piece of his yakitori. The sun is starting to hide behind the roofs and trees; it won't take long until the ghostly darkness comes.

"Maybe your sanctuary is this repair shop," Kuroo adds, letting out a sigh. He knows Bokuto enjoyed repairing cars before the war hit; he was there, with him, laughing when an old car's engine wouldn't start, making Bokuto groan in frustration and try again, and again, until it worked. Those were the good days, and Kuroo seems to be desperate to bring them back now that there is a chance to do so.

"Don't make it sound like I'm in constant suffer," Bokuto says, a little chuckle escaping his lips. "I'm alright, you know that."

Kuroo nods.

"I know," he agrees, standing up. "But what I also know is that you need some changes in your life. Something more to it than only living with your mother and doing odd jobs around. She found her place in the countryside, in a little teashop there, but you need something else."

Bokuto eyes the thin wooden skewers in his hands, the little remains of chicken on them. He doesn't know what to say, partly because Kuroo is right and there's nothing he could add, and partly because he doesn't want to accept that he was simply existing these past few years, trying to find his happiness in the countryside, but never being able to reach the point where he stopped thinking about all the _maybes_ and _what ifs_ , and started being fully content with the present life.

Kuroo places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, as if knowing exactly what is going through Bokuto's mind. Even through his thick shirt Bokuto can feel that Kuroo's hand is nearly freezing. His thoughts travel to his friend being careless again, and he grunts.

"Why aren't you wearing a scarf?" he asks, and with Kuroo's laughter the light atmosphere is back.

"The drink will warm me up," he says with a shrug and he grabs Bokuto by the arm. "Come on, time to cross the bridge to the other side of the river. That's where the real life begins."

Kuroo seems to mean what he is saying, perhaps already going to that place in his mind and excited to show it to Bokuto as well, in real life, just in a few minutes. Bokuto finds himself snorting, but he stands up nevertheless.

"In the bar?" he asks.

Kuroo grins at him and points somewhere to his right.

"Yes, right there," he says, even though the river, the bridge and the bar itself are hiding behind a line of houses on this side of the bank. Kuroo doesn't seem to mind it. A hum escapes his lips at another thought of the warm drink, of cozy evening with people he likes. Bokuto knows that Kuroo is not a big drinker, so it must have to do something with the atmosphere in the bar, with Kuroo's friends there. He follows Kuroo's outstretched arm and his lingering glance; it doesn't matter that he can't see anything there. Kuroo tilts his head and meets Bokuto's eyes. He smiles and almost proudly says, "In the Nanohana bar."

Bokuto lets out a puff.

"Nanohana?" he asks, thinking about yellow carpets of rapeseed flowers. It's their blooming time now and on his way to Fukuroubashi Bokuto has seen fields of nanohana, tall and slender stems dancing lazily in the wind. He doesn't remember seeing any of the yellow flowers here, but he reckons they might be dominating the riverbank somewhere close. "Interesting name for a bar,"  he adds, trying to guess why is it called like that.

Kuroo shrugs, beginning to walk.

" _Nanohana - with the moon in the east and the sun in the west_ ," he recites the words of famous haiku by Buson and turns to look at Bokuto with a smirk. "It's in the evening, with the sun in the west and with the moon in the east, when the bar opens. Maybe that's the reason for the name. I'm not sure though. You can ask about that yourself."

"Very deep meaning," Bokuto jokes as they turn around the corner. In the calm evening he can already hear the soft murmur of the river in the distance and can see the bridge slowly appearing as they walk closer. He takes a deep breath.

Everything feels somewhat exciting.


	2. -two-

There's a simple design of nanohana on the sign of the bar; a yellow flower with a green stem next to black, hardly recognizable characters on a creamy white board above the sliding door leading inside. Bokuto can already hear the voices in there, a pleasant ruckus keeping the place alive. It sounds like a house where a lot of people live together rather than just a bar where they come in pairs or groups to let off the steam and run away from everyday life. Bokuto has a feeling that everyone has their place there.

"Welcome to Nanohana," Kuroo says, grinning, and he slides the door open, the sound of his geta sandals against the wood dying off when he opens his mouth again, turning his head to look behind the bar. "Your favourite customer is back!"

Bokuto follows suit, bending a little bit to get inside, a mix of everyone's laughter reaching his ears as he walks past the pair of tables near the door. Kuroo stops at a leveled tatami floor with three round low tables just in front of the bar itself. It's dry and warm inside, the yellow, slightly dim light setting the lazy, relaxing mood.

"I do not have a favourite customer. Good evening, Kuroo."

A new, monotone voice comes from the bar, followed by a silent sigh. When Bokuto looks at the direction of the voice, he's met with a rather tall, black haired man in a dark brown waistcoat. He looks a tad bit tired, and already used to Kuroo's antics. It must be the bar owner, Bokuto guesses.

"Akaashi, don't make me look bad in front of my friend," Kuroo mutters, but there's a note of amusement in his tone and a twirl of a smile to his lips. "I brought you a new customer! We'll have the usual," he says, kicking off his geta and leading Bokuto to one of the low tables.

The man, Akaashi seems to be his name, looks away from Kuroo, his eyes landing on Bokuto. Bokuto nods and gets a polite nod in reply, but Akaashi's slightly lingering glance to Bokuto's silver hair doesn't go unnoticed. A well known sense of discomfort settles inside Bokuto and he squirms, fighting the urge to touch his hair. It's not the first and surely not the last time someone picks on his silvered strands, but Bokuto can never get used to the unspoken questions left hanging in the air.

"Welcome to Nanohana," Akaashi finally says, shifting his eyes away and taking some of the discomfort together with it. Bokuto lets out a breath, collecting himself back again, but he can't get rid of the thoughts in his head that easily. He tries to convince himself that it's just hair and no one cares, but part of him can't help but wish he had black hair as well.

"The first cup of sake is on me," Akaashi adds. His voice is calm, rather silent for the owner of such a place, Bokuto thinks, but it rings pleasantly in his ears.

"Give us your best one, Akaashi!" Kuroo calls. His voice a very opposite of Akaashi's, but nevertheless, hearing it always eases Bokuto.

"I will," Akaashi says as he prepares two little ceramic cups and reaches for a big sake bottle with a red drawing under the black writings in ink on the label.

Bokuto doesn't say anything. His eyes follow Akaashi and his hair that is black, just like ink. He's also got a nice complexion, slightly tanned in a similar way Kuroo and Daichi are. It's very evident when he's wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled half up his forearms.

Bokuto sighs, dropping his eyes to look at his own hands. They are pale, only the yellow lighting adds some hues to them. It makes him feel somewhat faded, somewhat ghostly, but strangely, he doesn't feel exposed of that. Akaashi's presence is not disturbing, his eyes, even though wandering to Bokuto's hair again, are not invading.

Perhaps Bokuto's staring, because Kuroo hums next to him, a lazy, knowing smile playing on his lips.

"Akaashi's not the actual owner of the bar," he says, not even waiting for Bokuto to ask. He crosses his legs, resting his elbow on the low table. "But the actual owner, Yamiji Takeyuki, is almost never present. Akaashi's started working here last autumn, but he's doing well and Mister Yamiji trusts him enough to let him handle the bar. He's one year younger than we are, from the capital."

"Fukuroudani? Then why did he come here?" Bokuto asks, furrowing his eyebrows. He's heard that living in the capital is nice, it's easier to get everything you need, there are more fun things to do and there's no shadow of the war left there anymore. That's where most of the help went to when the war ended, after all.

"Because it felt too suffocating in there," Akaashi says as he walks up to place a small tray on the table. Two cups are filled with sake nearly to the brim, but it doesn't spill. "Everything was moving and changing too fast, too forced. Tall buildings suddenly started growing over houses, streets began to look foreign, distant. That is no more the city I grew up in. It felt fake, therefore, I found a new place for myself." He's not smiling when he says the last words, but his features soften out nevertheless and the look in his eyes changes as if he remembers something nice. "I hope you will enjoy staying in Fukuroubashi," he tells Bokuto and gestures to the cups. "Please, give it a try. Wonderful sake from Nekoma prefecture."

"I hope so too," Bokuto replies, albeit a bit too late. He clears his throat and mutters a "thank you". Then, he lifts the cup of sake to his lips and even though he's no expert of the drinks, he can tell that it's a good sake, indeed.

He feels warm inside.

-

Daichi's father is not working anymore because of his health, but he does his best to teach Bokuto everything he knows. Bokuto has worked with mechanics and repairs before, but there's still a lot he can learn, thus he gladly listens and tries to follow all the instructions. It's nice to dive all in when it's something that interests you greatly. The work keeps Bokuto busy, not leaving too much time for empty thoughts, and he is glad for that.

It is not daily that the cars need to be repaired, but it seems that people bring in bicycles and any others broken things here quite often, so there's always something that an extra pair of hands is needed for. The name of the repair shop says "Sawamura's auto", but it clearly covers a lot more than that. It might not be exactly what Bokuto has imagined, but he doesn't mind it at all.

He enjoys it. He gets into work with his whole self, jumping into his grey mechanic's costume in early morning and staying in it throughout the day. There's a tingling sense in the tips of his fingers, excitement bubbling inside him when he's fixing something, seeing it come back to life. It's been only a few days yet and Bokuto doesn't want to rush with his statements, but right now he feels that maybe Kuroo's been right. Maybe it could be his sanctuary.

Both him and Kuroo were busy throughout the week and didn't sit down to talk, but now with the weekend waiting for them, Bokuto thinks it'd be nice to relax together again. He looks through the sliding glass door of the repair shop, checking if the light in Kuroo's house is on, but he's greeted with darkness.

"Do you think Kuroo is at Nanohana?" he asks Daichi, who is working on some papers at the back of the shop. Daichi lets out a chuckle and looks up from the papers.

"I wouldn't be surprised. Are you going there?"

"I think so," Bokuto says, putting away the box with tools he's used. "Do you want to join?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I want to finish these papers and there's a show on the radio I want to listen to later," he explains. "Have you already befriended Akaashi?"

Bokuto shrugs his shoulders, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"We've only met once. He seems to be on good terms with Kuroo though."

Daichi lets out a little laugh, nodding.

"He doesn't look like the friendliest person on earth, but he's very nice once you get to know him. I'm not sure what exactly it is, but he's got something that attracts people." He spins a pen between his fingers, then stops, and then spins it once again. "Nanohana has never been as popular as it is now. I guess Akaashi adds character to that place," Daichi hums under his nose, searching for the right words to express himself. Then, he chuckles to himself and looks at Bokuto. "He makes you want to stay there longer."

It's a simple phrase to settle on after all the thinking, but Bokuto decides it's a good one. He smiles back at Daichi and straightens up.

"I guess tonight I'll see it for myself," he says. Daichi waves at him.

"Oh, after the week of work, I'm sure you will. See you tomorrow."

Bokuto leaves with a snort at the mention of tomorrow. It might be a day off, but it doesn't mean he is going to stay in the bar until the morning. Even if he's there with Kuroo, and even if he does get friendly with Akaashi.

Bokuto doesn't even bother to change his clothes as the uniform is clean - he didn't have to work with anything dirty or oily today. He does take off his working shoes, though, and he slips into the sandals. He quite enjoys the clicking sound it makes when he walks.

There's no wind this evening, the street is quiet, for everyone is inside, content and safe away from the darkness of the night that's already engulfed the district. Bokuto rounds the corner, slowly approaching the Fukuroubashi bridge. He stops. It's nothing too special, but the simple design of the stone bridge with sculptures of owls decorating the few lanterns along the way makes it pleasant for the eye. It's not grand, not too massive. The bridge blends in nicely with the wooden houses around, still having some reminiscence of what it looked like decades ago when it was, too, once wooden. Bokuto lingers around it for a little while, marvelling at the lights dancing to the relaxing music of the ripples. Slowly and without any hurry, the streaks of yellow play on the water surface. They seem to be teasing, as if saying that they could get away from here any time, but they stay, each of them in their own place. It feels like no one wants to leave Fukuroubashi.

Bokuto's eyes travel to the bar on the other side of the bridge when his ears catch on the sound of footsteps. He sees the door of the bar slide open, a small figure, Bokuto guesses it's Komi from the little magazine shop down the street, slip inside. He thinks now, that every time he sees the doors to the bar open, it's always someone getting inside and never going outside. He's never stayed around it for too long though, only noticing it happen when walking past. Maybe there's a certain time when people start leaving or maybe all of them stay until it's time to close the bar; Bokuto doesn't know it, not yet. After all, he's been there only that one time with Kuroo and they've left rather early as Bokuto was slightly tired after the trip.

Maybe he'll see it today, Bokuto thinks as his legs carry him across the bridge and to the bar. He feels the same excitement as the last time, as if once again, it's his first time visiting Nanohana. It brings a smile to his face.

-

It appears that Kuroo is not in the bar; the low table that he's mentioned to be his usual spot is empty and there's no unmistakable laughter ringing inside the bar. Bokuto hesitates for a moment, but finally closes the door after himself, deciding to stay. He walks past the people near the entrance, nodding and smiling when they greet each other, and sits down at the bar. He's not ready to sit at one of the bigger tables with others yet and he doesn't want to take a low table all for himself.

"It has been a while," Akaashi says to him, looking up from where he's cleaning some sake cups. A soft tune is playing from a radio behind him, but it's so quiet that Bokuto can't recognize the song. "What can I get you?"

"The one you gave us the last time. From Nekoma prefecture," Bokuto asks, fiddling with his fingers on the bar. "It was very good. Can I get it warm?"

"Of course."

While he's waiting, Bokuto looks around, taking in the details of the bar. Old and new, big and small sake bottles are lined up behind the bar. They seem to be in some kind of order, but Bokuto can't really put his finger to it. On the wall, there's a calendar that looks like it's been there for years, despite it being used only for a couple of months. The riverside with blooming nanohana flowers is the picture for February; there are some notes scribbled on it and some days are circled, but Bokuto can't make out what the little hurriedly stroked characters say. Everything behind the bar seems to be a bit of a mystery.

Bokuto turns around to look at the opposite wall. Above the low tables, a few posters of women in kimono are hung up. In one of them three women are sitting at the little table with sake cups on it, in another one a woman is holding a sake bottle, her lips twirled into a tiny smile. The text below each picture adverts different types of sake, all of them insisting on being the best alcohol. Bokuto snorts at this. None of them have the label of the sake Akaashi's offered before. For some reason, Bokuto trusts Akaashi's choice more that the words of the advertisement, even though maybe it was Akaaahi himself who decided to hang it up there.

Bokuto is looking at a few shelves filled with books, magazines and all kinds of papers, old sculptures of cats among and on top of them, when Akaashi appears behind the bar again, placing a sake flask and a cup in front of Bokuto.

Slowly and carefully, he pours the warm liquid in the cup.

"Please, enjoy," he says and Bokuto slightly bows his head, lifting a cup to his lips and taking a sip.

He hums, a smile stretching across his face.

"It's great," he says. Akaashi smiles back at him.

"I am glad then."

Bokuto takes another sip and he notices that Akaashi is still here, at the same spot right in front of him.

"So, is Kuroo coming today?" Bokuto asks, remembering that Daichi's told him everyone knows everything about each other here. Akaashi shakes his head.

"I do not think so," he says. "I heard he was going to Yamamoto's house with Tanaka and Miss Kiyoko." He easily proves Daichi's words right and Bokuto hums in acknowledgment, not really knowing what to say next. Akaashi doesn't move away, though, as if he's still waiting for something.

"Mister Bokuto, right?" he suddenly asks, and when Bokuto lifts his eyes, he's met with dark green irises looking back at him.

Bokuto nods.

"Bokuto Koutarou," he says, smiling, "but being called a mister sounds a bit too serious."

Akaashi lets out a little puff at this.

"Bokuto it is then," he says. "I have not introduced myself yet. It's Akaashi Keiji. I hope I will be seeing you more often here," he adds. Then, he furrows his eyebrows, just a bit as if trying to figure something out, and he asks, "Do you smoke, Bokuto?"

"I do not," Bokuto replies, watching Akaashi nod weakly. "I'm afraid I'd make a bad habit out of it if I started."

Akaashi lets out a silent chuckle and then, a sigh.

"I reckon I have already made it into a bad habit myself," he says. "If you excuse me then, I will go outside for a few minutes."

Bokuto follows Akaashi with his eyes, seeing him reach for the tobacco box in his trousers pocket as he walks to the door, exchanging a few words with Komi and the others. Konoha, a good friend of Komi, stands up to join Akaashi for a smoke, and for a moment Bokuto finds himself wishing he smoked as well.

He tries not to think too much about it.

-

The minutes and hours come and go, passing the midnight without stopping, but Bokuto doesn't leave Nanohana. He's on his second flask of sake, enjoying the warmth that spreads inside of him with every sip he takes. Kuroo has never showed up, but Bokuto found himself talking to whoever came to sit shortly at the bar before joining the people at the tables. Most of the time, however, he spent chatting with Akaashi, words easily flowing between them as they talked about nothing and everything.

"Until when are you open?" Bokuto asks, watching as the doors open and close, the bar getting more and more quiet. Akaashi follows his line of view, sighing silently.

"Until there is no customers left," he says. Bokuto pours the last drops of sake into his cup and puts it down again, but his fingers are hesitant to pull away.

"Then, if I am here until the morning, you will be open until the morning?"

"Exactly that."

Bokuto looks at two more people sitting in the bar. Ukai and Takeda seem to be finished with their drinks, but they are still enjoying the last minutes of talking in the warm room before stepping into a chilly night. Bokuto looks down into his cup. He could easily finish it in one sip, pay and leave, but something is stopping him. He lifts his eyes. Akaashi is looking back at him, right at him and nothing else, and Bokuto feels warm.

Ukai calls from the door, thanking for the drinks and saying he's left the money on the table, and Akaashi shifts his eyes.

"Thank you. Take care on your way home," he calls back. Then, the doors are closed and finally it's quiet enough so that Bokuto can hear the song on the radio.

He doesn't listen to it.

Akaashi walks around the bar and to the tables, taking the money and picking up the flasks, bottles and cups. Bokuto watches him move. Daichi's been right yet again. There's something to Akaashi that makes you want to stay close to him, that attracts.

Bokuto takes a deep breath and then, he finishes his drink, a loud thump of the cup hitting the bar making Akaashi turn at the sound.

"Would you like another drink?" Akaashi asks, coming back to the bar. He looks a bit tired, blinking slowly as he waits for Bokuto to reply.

Bokuto shakes his head.

"I'm all good, thank you," he says, fishing out the money from his pocket. "Enough for tonight."

He stands up to leave, even though he would gladly stay here longer and listen to whatever new story Akaashi could tell him or simply watch him work around, cleaning the cups, opening new bottles of sake, writing something down on a pile of papers at the corner of the bar or preparing a small snack for someone. It's pleasant, but Bokuto's already stayed long enough.

Wordlessly, Akaashi walks to the door, sliding them open for Bokuto and following him into the night as well. It's chilly outside, and a slight wind coming from the river sends a shiver down Bokuto's spine.

"The spring is almost here, but the nights are still cold," Akaashi says, leaning back against the door. He takes out the tobacco box and matches. "Do you mind?"

"Go ahead," Bokuto says. After a few moments the match lights up and soon after a smell of tobacco tickles Bokuto's nose. "Hey, Akaashi?" he asks, suddenly remembering the question that has been on his mind a while ago. Maybe it's only now, when he deaperately wants to talk about something with Akaashi, that it comes back to him. "Why is the bar called Nanohana?"

A white smoke escapes Akaashi's mouth when he laughs.

"There is no deep meaning behind it. When Mister Yamiji was trying to come up with a name, his wife cooked boiled nanohana with karashi mustard dressing. He liked the sound of the word, therefore, he just decided to call it Nanohana." Akaashi laughs again, "That is my favourite dish actually. Maybe that is why I took such a liking to this bar."

Bokuto laughs as well.

"Kuroo guessed it might be because of that haiku about nanohana."

"I am not surprised. He is a writer after all, it is only natural he thinks of the written word first." Akaashi takes another drag on a cigarette. The wind catches on the smoke and carries it away. "May I ask something as well?"

"Surely."

"It is about your hair," he says, and Bokuto feels his body stiffen at the mention of it. "Is it natural?"

Bokuto bites on his lip, this time not stopping himself from touching his silver strands.

"In a way," he says. His voice sounds a bit weak and he clears his throat. "I used to have black hair as well. Until the war, it is. But then everything hit me far too strongly, I don't know why, it seems I've always been feeling everything almost to its extremes, and so the stress of constant worry, fear and loss got to me." He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it all out. "I thought it'll get black again, but the grey hair doesn't want to leave."

Akaashi stays silent for a while, not saying he's sorry, not emptily telling Bokuto that maybe it just needs more time for his hair to turn all black again. He finishes smoking his cigarette and only then looks back at Bokuto.

The night is black around them, and the yellow light coming from the bar seems a lot brighter than it actually is. Akaashi's face is coloured in warm hues of it, and the look in his gleaming eyes is sincere.

He simply says, "I think it suits you."

-

Maybe, Bokuto thinks, his attraction to Akaashi is different from what Daichi's talked about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you everyone who read it_


	3. -three-

"Tetsurou?"

The word dissolves into the air, eaten by a soft sound of the pen scribbling on the paper and monotonous bubbling of the boiling water. Bokuto watches the little puffs lazily twirl from his cup of tea, emptily trying to join with the steam bursting out from the kettle on the heater.

For a few moments there's no reply.

Bokuto is about to call his friend again when Kuroo suddenly lets out a satisfied hum and puts down the pen. He turns around to face Bokuto and extends his arms, wriggling his fingers at the warmth coming off the heater.

"I'm listening," he says, catching Bokuto's eyes for a second before looking down at the bright orange and blue flames of the heater. He closes his eyes as if he can absorb more warmth like that.

Bokuto reaches for his cup, moving it and the little puffs of steam further away from the kettle. He takes a careful sip of the hot drink and lets it slowly go down his throat. The cup is small, Bokuto can almost wrap the fingers of his one hand all the way around it, but even so, it gives him a sense of security. It makes him feel like he could hide behind it if he needed. He holds onto it.

"Do you think Akaashi is," he asks, furrowing his eyebrows in thought, "beautiful?"

The word is silent as it comes from deep within Bokuto, well thought out during the late hours before sleep. Now, it leaves him just like the steam leaves the kettle. Being careless, Bokuto has burned his fingers when once he tried to catch the hot steam in his hands as a kid. He learned afterwards that if you are careful, the steam won't hurt you, that it will warm you pleasantly instead.

He thinks, the same rule can often be applied to the words as well.

"Akaashi?" Kuroo asks, opening his eyes to look at Bokuto. Then, he snorts. "Not really. He's fine, but he doesn't exactly meet all the beauty standard, does he? Why are you asking?" Kuroo takes the kettle to pour some water in his cup, but stops midway. "Wait. Are you starting to get sweet on him?"

Bokuto shrugs, but he feels his face warming up at Kuroo's guess. He hasn't dwelled on beauty standards, hasn't tried to compare Akaashi to them. He's not even sure what are the beauty standards now and who has decided on them. He's simply thought about Akaashi.

"Koutarou?"

Kuroo's voice brings him back to the middle sized room full of books and papers, alive with the bubbling sound of water and faint smell of rice in the tea. Bokuto looks away through the crack of the curtains into the dark street, and he takes a deep breath.

"I think he's beautiful," he says, images of black hair and dark eyes with hints of green coming back to his mind once again. "I don't know if I want to think more of it."

Kuroo hums, slowly nodding his head at the words. He takes the cup with both of his hands, seeking some comfort from it as well. Bokuto smiles weakly at this; he's quite sure it means Kuroo doesn't know what to say to make Bokuto feel good.

"I can't tell," Kuroo finally opens his mouth, looking somewhere behind Bokuto as if the shelves with books can whisper him what's the right thing to say now. He clears his throat and his eyes shift to Bokuto. There's just a sliver of worry in them. "I can't tell if Akaashi might be interested in men. I never saw him with a woman, but I never picked on him showing any interest in men either. He seems to have stayed a very private person, even though usually the word goes easily around the Fukuroubashi."

Bokuto laughs at this, but even to his ears it sounds a bit dry. He takes a deep breath and then crouches, as if suddenly everything has started weighing him down.

"It's alright. I'm not sure what I feel myself. I simply noticed he has pleasant features."

Kuroo's lips curl into a tiny, a bit sad smile.

"I hope it goes well," he says, cautiously, because he knows that it doesn't matter how well it went, it would never go until the end. Bokuto knows that as well; he's long accepted his fate.

"Not that it will be easy."

Kuroo nods, and Bokuto sighs into his cup. Neither of them mentions what exactly that 'it' is, but Bokuto's glad for that. Once you voice out the actual word, it makes everything more real, more true.

And then, it gets complicated.

-

The problem is, Bokuto keeps on thinking about Akaashi. He thinks about him after meeting in the streets when Akaashi's buying tobacco, dark skin under his eyes telling Bokuto that he had a long night at the bar. He stays on Bokuto's mind when they exchange some words with him at the dango stand - Akaashi buys a green-tea flavoured one and Bokuto does the same, even though his favourite one is mitarashi dango covered in syrup. When Kuroo and Daichi suggest going to Nanohana, Bokuto steals glances of Akaashi's hair, his hands, his neck, sometimes his face and his eyes, and he can't stop thinking. It feels like there's a part of Bokuto that has decided to be responsible of thinking about Akaashi at all times; it seems to take this job very seriously.

There's also a tiny little something somewhere inside him, and it starts flickering, reminding of its existence once the imagine of Akaashi comes to Bokuto's mind. It doesn't matter what he's thinking about, as long as it's about Akaashi, the tiny little something - _it_ \- gets excited.

Bokuto starts reasoning with himself. In his head, he recreates the smell of tobacco that Akaashi often smokes. It's not pleasant and Bokuto doesn't like it, and now everything's going the right way in his head, he's found something irritating about Akaashi and it means he wouldn't like to spend a lot of time together, breathing in the smell he doesn't enjoy, would he? He smiles, albeit a bit bitterly, at this train of thought, feeling satisfied that it won't get complicated, it'll be fine, but his mind, or that tiny little something inside him, suddenly betrays him. It makes him think of how the smell of tobacco clings to Akaashi, just a bit, mixing with all the other hints of smells on him, and how it all together becomes a somewhat pleasant, somewhat intoxicating scent.

He lets out a sigh, a deep one, and shakes his head.

Daichi looks from where he's fixing the brakes of Sugawara's bicycle, a warm smile appearing on his face.

"Having trouble with the radio? I can take a look at it later."

"It's okay," Bokuto says, furrowing his eyebrows. He can fix the radio easily; the only troubling thing is that it makes him think about Akaashi as it's the same type of radio as in the bar. "I'm almost done with it."

"Nice," says Daichi, turning around to look at the clock on the wall. "I dropped by Kuroo's in the morning. We're thinking of going to the bath house today instead of tomorrow. Do you want to come as well?"

"I do!" Bokuto hums happily at the thought of sinking into a hot bath for a good while. They go there at least once a week, and Bokuto's always looking forward to it. The hot water washes away all the troubles, and it's always nice to have a lazy chat with whoever is sitting nearby.

Kuroo says that Futakuchi bath house is the second best place here after Nanohana; Daichi thinks it's number one. Bokuto says he can't choose, but that's only because he knows his choice would be biased.

-

Futakuchi public bath is around a ten-minute walk west of the Sawamura's repair shop. It looks like any other house in the neighbourhood, except from the light blue and white curtain hanging above the door, the kanji character of 'hot water' written on it.

"I could live here," comments Kuroo when they step inside, taking off their sandals. The wooden boards creak under their feet when they walk up to an old woman who is collecting money at the entrance to the men's baths and women's baths. The few coins they put in the money box land with a hollow _thump_ when they hit the wooden bottom. It always makes Bokuto think of shrines and praying there, and he always finds himself making a wish at this sound. Now, only an image of Akaashi flashes in his mind.

"It is a pity you do not have a girl in Futakuchi family whom I could marry," Kuroo says to an old lady, making her laugh.

"It means your fate is somewhere else," she intones, looking at all of them with a tender smile. "It's about time for that, isn't it?" she says, but before any of them can reply, the lady points to the men's baths entrance and adds, "Please relax and feel free to spend as much time as you want."

"Thank you," Daichi says for all of them, and they bow before disappearing behind the thin, dark blue curtain of men's baths and after that, behind the sliding door.

It's warm and slightly humid inside, the old lamps in the corners giving off yellow light. Bokuto puts his towel and soap in a basket numbered as fourth and begins to untie his yukata. Only a couple more baskets are full with clothes, and Bokuto smiles. As much as he likes talking with people here, he enjoys the baths more when it's less crowded.

"The girl who gets Futakuchi's boy is going to be very lucky," Kuroo goes on, taking off his yukata. "Marrying into his family will be a fortune."

"You are still talking about that?" Daichi laughs, neatly folding his undershirt. "You should worry about yourself."

Kuroo groans, muttering under his nose that there aren't many girls around their age here, and that Daichi's lucky that Michimiya shows interest in him. Daichi elbows Kuroo, a traitorous red coming up his neck, but he laughs anyway, saying that Kuroo's problem is that he's already created a perfect girl in his books and now no one can live up to his expectations.

"That's true," Bokuto comments, with a little chuckle himself, but then he hastily escapes the changing room before Daichi can ask what does he like in girls and if he's taken to anyone. He doesn't want to burden Daichi with knowledge of his preference in romantic partners; as much as intimacy between men is getting accepted in the society again and it is thought that everyone should enjoy their bodies - the only possession they have preserved from the war - the way they want, the old beliefs about it being unnatural, being a social threat or even a mental illness, is still left lingering around from the last decades. Bokuto is not ashamed of himself, but he has still decided to use the rule of 'the less people know the better'. It's easier this way, even though sometimes it does make him upset.

He doesn't understand why it bothers some people so much, why they care about the other's preferences and feel the need to express their thoughts about it in rude, hurtful ways. Bokuto knows he won't be able to get married and make his mother happy with grandchildren, but he also knows that he's not going to settle down with a girl and create a family, he's not going to live a fake life just to make others, even if it's his beloved mother, happy.

He sits down on a little stool and, closing his eyes, pours a bucket of water over himself.

Kuroo and Daichi join him after a few moments, their loud voices filling the washroom with echoes. However, it dies off soon, changed with the sounds of stools getting dragged across the floor, of water coming out of the taps and hitting the floor.

Kuroo bumps Bokuto's shoulder to get his attention, and then gives Bokuto a look, with concern in his eyes, as if he knows something more than Bokuto does.

"Are you alright?" he asks, in a whisper, and for a split second his eyes travel to the baths behind Bokuto.

Bokuto nods.

"Don't worry about me," he says, giving Kuroo a smile. "I'm perfectly fine."

Kuroo smiles back at him, and then takes his towel, putting it under the water and soaping it.

"You're amazing, Koutarou," he says. "I probably couldn't do it."

Bokuto furrows his eyebrows, not really understanding the meaning behind Kuroo's words. He lets it go though, pouring another bucket of water over his head and washing everything away. Soon, the air is filled with the smell of soap, and Bokuto feels himself relax.

It's only when he's done washing himself and he stands up, turning to walk to the bathing area, when it hits him.

Kuroo's last comment wasn't about the girls and marriage. It was about Akaashi.

Akaashi, who is soaking in the bath, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. Akaashi, whom he hadn't noticed before, when he was lost in his own thoughts. Bokuto freezes for a moment, looking back at Kuroo, but the other is not paying any attention to him. Then, he bites his lip and takes the last few steps, putting his towel at the side of the bath and lowering himself into the hot water. He clears his throat.

"I hope you don't mind me joining you," he says, feeling the heat coming up his body. The water burns his toes a little bit, but Bokuto doesn't mind it; it takes only a couple of seconds for him to get used to it.

Akaashi straightens up, opening his eyes and looking at Bokuto. The ripples made by his movement travel across the bath, stopping only when they reach Bokuto's chest.

"Bokuto," Akaashi says. Bokuto's noticed that Akaashi always says his name first when they meet, but he's yet to figure out the reason behind it. He can't complain though; he likes being called by name. It makes him feel needed, it makes him feel less ghostly.

"By all means stay as long as you like," Akaashi continues. "I am about to leave soon anyway, I am starting to become dizzy."

He's looking at Bokuto with slightly lidded eyes, his wet hair stuck to his forehead, his lip corners slightly tilted upwards in a content smile. And Bokuto thinks, it's himself who is becoming dizzy.

"Be careful, don't faint in here."

Bokuto turns his head to look at Kuroo, who has just gotten into the bath as well. He's grinning as he leans against the edge of the bath, resting his arms on the rim. The tips of his hanging fingers barely touch the slightly greenish, cloudy water.

Akaashi lets out a snort and sinks deeper into the bath, his shoulders disappearing into the water. The ripples reach Bokuto again, and he feels that tiny little something deep inside him awakening. He sees only the contour of where Akaashi's upper body blurs out in the cloudy water, and he watches how Akaashi's arm gets out of water and reaches for his modesty towel on the rim of the bath. He straightens up again, his shoulders and chest emerging from the water.

"I wish we could chat more here, but I believe I have reached my limit." He sighs, looking at Kuroo, but then his eyes shift to Bokuto, lingering there for a few moments. "Please come to Nanohana later tonight," he says, and with Akaashi's eyes on him, Bokuto's not sure if it's addressed directly at him or he's simply imagining.

Akaashi's glance travels away, though, back to Kuroo, and he adds, "Miss Kiyoko might come in to play the shamisen."

Bokuto nods, trying not to stare at Akaashi, who is standing up. The water is dripping of his body, leaving it all exposed, except for the little towel hiding his privates.

"Well then, excuse me."

"See you later, Akaashi," says Kuroo, holding up his hand to wave at him. "Keep my usual table for me."

"See you," Bokuto echoes, not daring to turn his head to look at Akaashi.

He hears him exchange a few words with Daichi before leaving, and he feels Kuroo's eyes on him.

"You really are getting fond of him," he says, in a low, silent voice, and Bokuto nods slowly, biting his lip and sinking deeper into the water.

"I think I am," he says, and now, his mind gets completely blank.

He has no idea what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I'm so slow with updates; the time is flying so fast and there's so much to do!  
> Thanks for reading and thanks for indulging into this bokuaka AU with me; I'm feeling even more weak for this ship after seeing some glimpses of them in the manga howcantheybesoamazing  
> if you have any comments or questions about anything, please don't hesitate; it always makes me really happy to hear your opinions here or on tumblr ;;  
> \---  
> a little characters [design](http://fromthefarshore.tumblr.com/post/157483857072/new-au-new-fic) for this AU if anyone is interested


	4. -four-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does anyone still remember this?  
> life somehow got busy again, but finally I found some time for this fic! I really enjoy writing this, so hopefully next update will come faster >.>

Kuroo's favourite table is moved away because the leveled tatami floor is now used as a little makeshift stage for Kiyoko. Tanaka is sitting at the table near her, a little teapot and two cups in front of him, a content smile resting on his face as he watches Kiyoko tune her shamisen. She's wearing a lovely kimono that must have been passed to her from her mother or grandmother. It doesn't look new, but it's obvious that the kimono is well taken care of. Tanaka is wearing a dark yukata that fits nicely with Kiyoko's flowery apparel. Together they look like someone has painted them into this scene, using the same brush, same style.

It's a pleasant sight for Bokuto's eyes, and the tender familiarity between them is something Bokuto wishes to have as well. He doesn't even need the sound of shamisen to enjoy this evening, but it is welcome when a few notes reach his ears.

"I could not keep your usual table, my apologies," Akaashi says when Kuroo sits down on the bar stool right in front of him. Bokuto takes a stool to Kuroo's left and Daichi takes the one on his right, exchanging greetings with Tanaka. When three of them are together, they naturally end up in such order - Kuroo in the middle, Bokuto to his left because for some reason he prefers having someone to his right, and Daichi on the other side because he seems to have picked on Bokuto's preference fast and naturally started playing along. It works fine like this, it feels like a well built house, stable and long lasting. Bokuto thinks that maybe this three-human house is his sanctuary as well, at least part of it; after all, sanctuary doesn't have to be very limited. Maybe, Bokuto decides, it can expand.

His eyes move to Akaashi -- perhaps exactly where Bokuto wants to expand his sanctuary -- and just because he ends up staring, he notices how for a moment Akaashi's eyes shift to him as well. He beams and Bokuto doesn't know if he's supposed to find it endearing, but he does anyway. It's charming and it's difficult to look away. Bokuto finds himself thinking if it's really affection he's feeling towards Akaashi. Never been in love before, it's rather hard to fully understand it in such a short period of time. Bokuto's still not sure if he's supposed to fall in love immediately, from the moment he sees a person, or it happens gradually.

He finds himself wishing it's the latter. It fits his feeling for Akaashi better.

"Sometimes it's fun to sit here with you as well," Kuroo says, his voice sounding slightly distant now that Bokuto's mind is away. He's even a bit surprised he hears the remark altogether. "Right?" Kuroo asks, looking at Daichi and Bokuto for confirmation.

"The drinks do come faster here," Akaashi intones and Daichi laughs, nodding.

"Fair point," he says.

Bokuto laughs as well, but his reply is different than that of Akaashi's or Daichi's.

"It's fun," he says, and after a little pause, he adds, "Akaashi is a nice company."

Kuroo hums in approval, but he's hardly controlling the grin that's twirling his lip corners up in amusement.

"Let us drink to that," he says, and with a little snort Akaashi places three cups on the bar counter and, a second later, Kuroo's bottle of sake.

"I am honoured," he says, with just a bit of irony to his voice, but then he looks at Bokuto again, and he says, "Thank you."

This time, though, there is no irony.

Bokuto bows his head slightly, realising now that the radio behind the bar is off, and all the people in the bar have tuned down their lively chats to whispers. He can almost hear the sake being poured into his cup when for a moment silence falls in the bar. Then, Kiyoko starts playing the first song.

It's not very loud, played more as the background music to amuse people in the bar rather than being the main focus of the evening. The sound is a bit distant, it feels as if it's coming from somewhere else, and Bokuto finds himself turning around in his stool to look at Kiyoko and make sure it's her who is playing.

A clean, warm buzz of the shamisen is calming and the soft melodic tune with just a bit of percussive tone reminding that of the drum's carries Bokuto's mind away to the old days, to the winters when the heavy snow covered the countryside with the blanket of silence, when he was just a kid and his grandfather played the instrument as well. He would always tell the best stories to the sound of it.

Bokuto doesn't notice Akaashi coming from around the bar and sitting on the stool next to him. He only registers his presence when Akaashi leans a bit closer, asking in a whisper if he's not cold.

"There are a few blankets in the corner," he says. "Everyone is welcome to use them if it gets cold."

Bokuto turns his head to look at Akaashi and he furrows his eyebrows in question. Akaashi lets out a puff and gestures to Bokuto's forearms.

"You seemed to be a bit cold," he explains, the goosebumps on Bokuto's skin reasoning with his words. Bokuto chuckles at this, shaking his head.

"It's because of the music," he says. "It's fascinating." He rubs his forearms, noticing himself that the skin is indeed a bit cold and might actually enjoy the warmth of the blanket. He doesn't voice it out though, instead straightening the sleeves of his yukata to cover more of the skin.

Akaashi nods slowly next to him and his eyes travel to Kiyoko in front of them.

"She is beautiful, isn't she?" he suddenly says. His voice sounds a bit strange, as if it's not exactly him who is saying it, as if it's someone looking and commenting from somewhere aside. It sounds almost like the phrase is not real and Bokuto's just imagined hearing it.

He looks at Kiyoko, at her beautiful long and straight black hair and fair skin, lovely shaped face with big eyes, and slender fingers. She is beautiful indeed, perhaps the embodiment of those beauty standards Kuroo has talked about, but when Bokuto's eyes shift to Akaashi again, he doesn't want to talk about Kiyoko. He wants to talk about ruffled short hair, about tanned skin and slightly narrow eyes that are accompanied by rather thick eyelashes and sometimes, but not tonight, by dark circles underneath. He wants to look at different set of slender, even a bit bony fingers that belong to larger hands. Maybe Bokuto likes different kind of beauty. Maybe, he simply likes Akaashi.

"You are more beautiful."

It feels as if every other sound dies off, everything freezes and Bokuto's words echo in the bar. It's just for a second though, and it's only in Bokuto's mind, and now everything is back to normal again. Kiyoko is playing the shamisen, Tanaka is drinking tea, Kuroo and Daichi are chatting between themselves, and everyone else at the tables are busy talking and drinking. No one has heard Bokuto's words except for himself and except for Akaashi.

Akaashi's eyes are a bit widened now and he's looking right at Bokuto, but then, he quickly averts his eyes and he stands up to walk back behind the bar. The right side that he's just left suddenly feels somewhat cold and too empty.

Bokuto turns in his stool, watching Akaashi reach his box of tobacco and then putting it back down again just to take an empty glass and a cloth to wipe it.

His movements are not as graceful as usual, there is no flow in them.

"It is not funny, Bokuto. I meant what I said about Kiyoko, but now you are simply humouring me."

"It's not-" Bokuto leans forward in his seat so that he doesn't need to raise his voice for Akaashi to hear him, and abruptly his mind takes him back to the room with books and the heater, and smell of tea, and he remembers Kuroo's words, and only now he thinks more of it.

Akaashi is not thought to be beautiful. He doesn't really fit the beauty standards -- that's what Kuroo has said, voicing out the opinion of the society and probably of Akaashi himself.

Bokuto clears his throat and leans forward even more, as much as the bar counter allows him.

"I'm not humouring you," he says, and he can hear it himself, a note of nervousness seeping into his voice. He takes a deep breath and even though that's not how he's imagining things to happen, or to be fair, he hasn't imagined it at all, he catches Akaashi's eyes, and he says, "I find you beautiful."

The buzz of the shamisen rings in Bokuto's ears, but it doesn't have its calming effect. He's not sure if it's Kiyoko who starts playing a more percussive tone or it's his heart that starts beating faster and louder. The moment until Akaashi opens his mouth seems to take forever and in a way, Bokuto feels like he's back in the days of war, waiting for the bombings to start, not knowing where, when and how strongly it's going to hit.

It doesn't hit him, though. Akaashi's voice comes in a whisper, a pleasant, calming murmur that someone would always offer _after_ the bombings, and Bokuto thinks, it's he who's attacking.

"In what way?"

Akaashi's looking at Bokuto's face, their eyes meeting across the bar counter. The unspoken words are hiding in the greens and blacks, and flickers of light yellow, and Akaashi's beautiful, in a different way, in all the ways, and this time Bokuto knows what to do.

He doesn't answer, he doesn't think he needs to. Bokuto's never been good at bottling up his feelings without telling anyone, they would always come out, explode like the bombings with burning sparkles, with bursts of ash. It's always visible in his eyes, a tad bit too light to hide everything, and a reminder of it is atop his head, a permanent grey cloud that never goes away.

"Could we go outside for a moment?" he asks, and he feels a slight tremble to his hands.

Slowly, Akaashi nods.

-

The pleasant music of shamisen reaches the street as well, the closed doors letting it through, perhaps to delight the outside world as well. It seems to be working as the plants are slowly swaying right and left, right and left, and the evening sky is blushing with pink colours in the west, amused.

Bokuto thinks he's probably blushing as well, but for a different reason.

Akaashi is looking at him, but his eyes are slightly lowered, not meeting Bokuto's, not yet. He brings his hands to his back, wrapping his fingers around his wrist - Bokuto has seen him do it before a couple of times, so he can tell - and he clears his throat, silently.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, and Bokuto thinks that his voice is beautiful as well. It's calm, but there's strength in it. It could become loud very easily, it could carry on and on, but Akaashi never seems to use it, thinking it needless or maybe too bothersome. It's a bit like the wind, and Bokuto likes it.

He wants to put all this into the nice words, into the lines of a poem, but Bokuto's never been good at such things. The poems sound beautiful to his ears, carefully chosen words and pleasant rhythm of the voice reciting them, however, Bokuto's not sure if he gets the story behind the poems, if he sees the same picture as the person who wrote it down.

And he doesn't want Akaashi to see a different picture of what he has to say, thus he doesn't even try to rhyme the words together.

"I find you beautiful," he repeats the words from before instead, except this time he doesn't wait for Akaashi to interfere. "In affectionate way," he adds, "in... erotic way. I do not know how you will take it, but I do not want to keep it hidden. Forgive me if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but I am afraid I cannot-"

"It doesn't."

Bokuto stops, the words he was about to say vanishing from his head. Akaashi is looking at him, at him only, and this time, he's not averting his eyes.

"It doesn't?" Bokuto asks, voicing out the phrase that's now echoing in his head.

Akaashi takes a deep breath and he steps closer to Bokuto. He moves his hands to Bokuto's chest and then carefully touches the collar of his yukata, smoothing it out.

"It makes me feel happy," he says, his touch hot through the thin fabric. "But it also makes me feel like I do not deserve it. You barely know anything about me."

He's pulling his hands away, and the little, barely visible smile on his lips is bitter, the look in his eyes is somewhat sad. Bokuto doesn't think, not now. He lets his body act on its own. He lets himself catch Akaashi's hand.

His skin is warm and just a bit rougher than Bokuto's imagined. It makes Bokuto's heart beat faster, it makes him want to bring Akaashi's hand to his lips, but he tries not to pay attention to it.

"Then let me get to know you better," he says.

Akaashi looks down at Bokuto's fingers wrapped around his hand, and then he lifts his gaze up again. He looks directly into Bokuto's eyes as if trying to find something in them, as if trying to make sure of something.

Then, he puts his other hand atop Bokuto's, his touch lingering for a second longer than necessary before he gently takes Bokuto's hand away from his.

"I will write to you," he says. It sounds like a promise, and it sounds like a step further.

It's not a rejection, not yet, and Bokuto nods, even though he can't really make himself smile, not yet.

"I will be waiting," he says, and it's a promise as well.

The melody of shamisen stops and a moment of silence is followed up by a round of applause.

"Shall we go inside?" Akaashi asks.

"After you," Bokuto says, sliding the door open. Akaashi smiles.

Then, a new song begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope reading this feels as calming as it is writing it  
> Thank you for reading!


	5. -five-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to show characters in a bit different light in this fic as I believe it fits the story better; I hope it won't look out of character!

The rain is falling quite heavily outside Bokuto's windows when he hears a silent knock on his door.

"There's a letter for you," Daichi's mother calls from behind the door before opening it, slowly and carefully. Bokuto's told her before that she can come in at any time without asking, but she's still making sure to leave enough time for him to stop her if he wants to.

She's about to take off her slippers to get inside the room, but she sees Bokuto standing up and swiftly she slips her feet back in, a smile appearing on her face.

"Someone has left this for you. It doesn't have the person's name," she says with a tiny furrow of her eyebrows as she hands the little envelope to Bokuto.

He doesn't need the name, though. Taking the envelope in his hands, Bokuto already knows exactly whom it is from without even looking at it.

"Thank you." He bows his head a little, eager to open the letter immediately. The feelings are bubbling inside his chest, both excitement and worry mixed together. It makes him feel alive, maybe even a bit too much so. Daichi's mother must sense it as well; she lets out a little chuckle and reaches up to caress his cheek with her hand.

"I'm happy you've found yourself some friends here," she says, sounding very much like Bokuto's own mother. He lets out a laugh himself, a genuine smile twirling at his lips.

"That is because everyone is very nice to me," he replies.

"For a reason," Daichi's mother says, turning around. "You are impossible not to like, my dear," she comments, "and it seems someone has decided to act on it."

Bokuto doesn't know what to say back, nervous that she might pry into this matter more. However, Daichi's mother excuses herself with a smile and the wave of relief washes through Bokuto. She goes downstairs, starting to hum a song for the rain to go away. The song is catchy and fun; for a second Bokuto thinks if he were the rain, he'd stay even longer just to listen to it.

The melody tunes down soon, swallowed by the noise of rain, and so Bokuto closes the door. He walks back to the window and sits down, looking at the envelope. It feels warm.

He wants to tear it open right away, but when his fingers trace the edges of it, part of him is hesitating, afraid of what's written inside.

It's a regular envelope, one of the smaller size, without any stamps or postmarks as it was simply put into the mailbox. Bokuto's a bit upset he wasn't there to see Akaashi come to the house. Maybe he came at night, after work, Bokuto's not sure.

The only thing written on the envelope is a short line with Bokuto's name. He reads it again and again.

_To Bokuto Koutarou_

His name is written in eight characters of katakana instead of a few kanji. It's been a while since Bokuto's seen it written like this, but he realises now that he's never told Akaashi what kanji characters are used for his name. He's never asked Akaashi about his either.

You can't tell if it's a woman's handwriting or a man's. It must have looked like written by a woman to Daichi's mother; Bokuto finds himself smiling at this, wondering if Akaashi wrote it stripped of his characteristics on purpose.

"Okay," he mutters to himself and reaches for a little metal box beside him, taking a mint from it. The refreshing flavour spreads in his mouth, letting him gather his thoughts together. Finally, closing his eyes, he tears the envelope open. The sound of paper being torn sends a sharp, prickly feeling through him, but Bokuto tries to ignore it. He slowly opens one eye, then the other.

Inside, there's a paper folded once. When he takes it out, he sees it filled with little characters, and now, Bokuto recognizes it very easily. It's the same handwriting that's everywhere around in the bar: notes on the calendar, paper slips with the names of drinks and snacks hung above the bar, messages on little piles of papers around. Except now, it's for him.

_Bokuto, your words have surprised me quite a bit the other night, and it took me a while to think everything through. I apologize for that._

_I would be lying if I said I didn't find you attractive. I simply never let myself think more of it, deeming it unwise._

_It is not going to work, you know it yourself. Physical relationship behind the closed doors is one thing, but deeper connection based on mutual feelings of two men is still far from being accepted._

_Yet, I find myself unable to stop thinking about it, and about you._

_If you wish, join me under the blooming cherry blossoms on Saturday noon._

_I hope it doesn't rain._

_Take care of yourself._

_Akaashi Keiji_

 

Bokuto reads the message one more time, committing it to his memory before looking up from the paper. The words, however, stay with him, now painted behind his eyelids together with the image of Akaashi. Bokuto tries to guess what lies beyond them. Akaashi sounds like he's against barely physical relationship, but at the same time Bokuto sees the message but as a sort of invitation. He's not sure what exactly Akaashi wants. What he knows is that he wants to go meet Akaashi though.

He lets out a deep sigh and leans back on his folded futon. It feels a bit cold and damp in such weather, and Bokuto thinks he should go get a heater, but he doesn't move.

Instead, he listens to the sound of rain mercilessly hitting the window and looks at the drops hurrying down the glass. He likes it, he likes how the rain washes everything away, bringing calmness afterwards. He wonders if Akaashi doesn't like rain or if he likes it only when he's inside, falling asleep to the sound of it.

He wonders if Akaashi's hair curls at the dampness that comes with the rain, and he lets his thoughts travel on and on, until his mind is filled with Akaashi only, until it's dangerous and risky. His heart starts aching for some reason, as if already feeling the pain that will come sooner or later, and he doesn't know how to stop it.

Just as Akaashi said, it will probably never work out, but Bokuto decides that it's worth trying nevertheless.

Maybe, he thinks, things will change.

-

The lazy drops of the rain disappear on the gravel, joining the remains of the night's storm. Bokuto curls his toes when the water gets on his feet, a cold bite to his still warm skin. He wishes he wore something else than his sandals when the way to the riverside where the cherry trees bloom feels longer than usual. There's a little drumming inside his chest the whole time, and Bokuto feels like anyone who saw him could tell it right ahead. He's glad the streets are empty; the only evidence of people living here is lights in some of the windows and smell of homemade food escaping the houses.

Further away, the blossoms are bright pink in the gloominess of the day, and as if trying to hide itself from the rain, the branches are bending down and covering each other. It looks peaceful, calming even.

When Bokuto comes close enough, the cloud of faint sweet blossoms scent surrounds him and tickles his nose. Today there's no wind to carry it away.

It doesn't take long for Bokuto to spot Akaashi; he's standing next to one of the trees a bit deeper into a small riverside park, looking up at the pink colours of the nature. He's holding an umbrella, and from under it, the smoke of his lit cigarette is travelling up, ready to reach the sky. It looks out of place, but its little fight against the heavy raindrops is somewhat amusing.

Akaashi notices Bokuto when his wooden sandals clip-clop on the stony path along the trees. He turns around, and his face softens. Another tiny cloud of smoke escapes his lips when he speaks up.

"You came."

The drumming in Bokuto's chest gets louder for a moment before it tunes down. It seems Akaashi is a reason for both the nervousness and calmness fighting inside Bokuto.

"I did," Bokuto says. His voice comes out a bit hoarse and so he clears his throat, getting a little smile in reply. The tips of Akaashi's hair, Bokuto notices, are curled a bit more than usual.

"It is still raining, after all."

Bokuto peels his eyes away from Akaashi's hair and for a moment looks at his face. Then, he lifts his head, facing the sky. It's grey, the colour of his own hair.

A few drops get on his face and he frowns.

"It feels like an early rainy season."

Akaashi lets out a puff, a laugh almost, but not yet, not that easily. He takes out his little tobacco box and, crushing the burnt cigarette, puts it in there instead of throwing away.

"It will get a lot worse in June," he says. "The river floods a bit sometimes."

Bokuto smiles, bitterly, at this. He knows such a feeling, he's experienced floods of his own, and albeit it's probably different for the river, he finds himself feeling a bit sorry for it.

"I hope it's not too serious," he says, his mumbled voice eaten by a soft whisper of the river stream below, but Akaashi hears it anyway. He catches Bokuto's eyes, and after a little pause, he says, "Don't worry, Bokuto, the river can take it."

"Doesn't mean it wants to," Bokuto replies despite himself, and his eyes widen at the realisation that it might have sounded rude. Akaashi withdraws his eyes, nibbling on his lip from inside. Bokuto lets out a little yelp. "I didn't mean to be rude, I-"

"Rude?" Akaashi looks up again, a small furrow between his eyebrows flattening out when he blinks. "Oh, no. I didn't think it was rude. I barely got lost in my thoughts." Only now he puts the tobacco box in his trousers' pocket. He gives Bokuto a beam and takes a step forward, stilling for a moment when he asks, "Do you want to go for a walk?"

Bokuto feels like there's something more to Akaashi's behaviour, but he lets it go without questioning. Maybe Akaashi's had experienced floods of his own as well.

Akaashi starts moving with a flow again when Bokuto nods, turning to walk next to him. He keeps half a step back, however, walking not exactly in one line as the path is slightly too narrow.

They walk in silence for a while, only the sound of Bokuto's sandals and the sprinkle of raindrops on the umbrellas are reminding that something is happening in this slow, lazy noon. Bokuto keeps his eyes on Akaashi's back, wanting but not daring to speak up. There's so much he wants to talk about, but at the same time he doesn't know how and where to start.

He tightens his grip on the handle of his umbrella and takes a deep breath.

"I am not interested in only sleeping together," Akaashi suddenly speaks up, letting out a sigh. "All this enjoy your bodies philosophy is not for me anymore." He says it in a silent voice that sounds almost like an intimate whisper, meant for a secret. And it is a secret indeed, tainted with what must be some memories, some unpleasant experience hiding in the mutter of "anymore".

Bokuto stops, and when Akaashi turns his head to him, stopping as well, he says,

"I do not seek only sex with you. I want more than that."

Akaashi's lips stretch into a small, bitter smile. His hand that is not holding an umbrella disappears in his trousers' pocket for what Bokuto guesses is a calming hold of his tobacco box.

"You don't know me, Bokuto. You don't know my past. I might look calm on the outside, but-"

"I know you," Bokuto interrupts, stepping closer to Akaashi. "I know you're Akaashi Keiji, who came here from the capital because you didn't like the life there anymore, I know you're one year younger than me, born in December, I know you work in the bar, keeping it open until there are people who want to be there because you like those people. I know your favourite food is boiled rapeseed with karashi mustard dressing, your favourite drink is sake from Nekoma prefecture, and you prefer it cold. I know you always write down notes, but you never look at them, remembering it all, and you keep lists." Bokuto lets out a little chuckle here, seeing how Akaashi's eyes widen a bit and he averts them, hiding the greenness under the black eyelashes. "List of Kuroo's favourite drinks, list of different reasons why Konoha comes to the bar and where he sits according to them, list of what makes Daichi embarrassed, and so on. You don't like cold, you smoke, probably to let yourself relax, and you like green tea dango the most. You like music, old songs that play on the radio station, and sometimes you hum to yourself while you work. You like letters and you like reading. You wake up late and you like evenings more than mornings." Bokuto takes a deep breath and gives a little shrug, "There's a lot you can learn about a person in a few weeks, even without directly talking about it all the time. You do look calm and composed, you don't say everything that's on your mind, and it's difficult to make you laugh, truly laugh, but those are also things I know about you. Of course, I might not know your past, but you can't expect everyone to have a good one when there was war. I have my issues and you might have yours. I realise that, Akaashi, and it makes me a bit scared, but it doesn't stop me from being drawn to you. And I know, I _know_ what society thinks, but if you have grown to me at least a little bit-"

"How are you like this, Bokuto?"

Akaashi laughs, albeit silently, and when his eyes shift to look at Bokuto, they're a tad bit teary. Bokuto forgets what he was about to say, and he stares at Akaashi.

"It's the first time I am being confessed to," Akaashi says, closing his eyes for a few moments longer. When he opens them again, they are clearer, more shiny. "How could I not be taken to you when you are like this."

Bokuto furrows his eyebrows, not entirely understanding what lies beyond Akaashi's words once again. He seems to talk in what are almost riddles, as if fearing to say too much too fast.

"Like what?" Bokuto asks, and Akaashi lets out a soft puff.

"Like," he takes his hand out of his pocket and gestures to Bokuto, "this. Telling me everything with such honesty, making me feel... important? Paying attention. Showing attention. Caring."

Bokuto feels his face warm up and he smiles, not able to keep all the feelings inside himself.

"Hence, it's a good 'like that,'" he says, even though his voice is diluted with slight unsureness. Akaashi nods, and he reaches for Bokuto's arm, his light, gentle touch encouraging him to start walking again.

"It is," he says when Bokuto's sandals hit the stony path. With the familiar sound everything resumes, the raindrops get on Bokuto's skin again, the faint scent of flowers mixed with the smell of rain reaches his nose. Akaashi's fingers pull away, but the warmth stays both on Bokuto's skin and deep inside him.

"What did you mean in your letter?" he asks.

Akaashi's eyes travel from the blossoms to Bokuto. The greenness of them is bright in the sea of pink petals and Bokuto finds himself thinking how beautiful Akaashi is.

"These are not the days of the war anymore," Akaashi says. "Thereby I do not want to live the same way as during the war. I want an actual relationship, real feelings. Even though it is not going to be easy." He pauses for a second as if thinking if he wants to say what's more on his mind, but eventually decides to add, in that silent tone of his, "But I do not want to lose what I have here."

"I want the same," Bokuto says. "I will regret it terribly if I leave it be, that much I know. I am getting sweeter and sweeter on you with every day, and I wish you accepted my feelings. Will you?"

Akaashi looks at Bokuto as if not believing he is actually asking that. His long, bony fingers tighten the hold on the umbrella, and a tiny smile comes to his face.

He says, "I've already done that."


	6. -six-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's as if I get the juice to finish the chapter right before the one month since last update hits  
> how is the time running by so fast
> 
> sorry to keep you waiting and I hope very much that you will enjoy this!

It’s obvious from Bokuto’s faces and actions, and speaking manner that something is different than it’s been before, and even though asked by Daichi he simply says he’s in a good mood lately, the same answer doesn’t satisfy Kuroo.

“Because?” he asks, his eyes focused on Bokuto. They're narrowed, trying to fight against the sunlight but failing. In a second, he scrunches his nose and sneezes.

Bokuto snorts, but doesn't comment on this.

“If you ask me, it is not exactly one of your good moods behaviour,” Kuroo adds, and Bokuto can't run away from this.

It must be the underlying sense of worry and maybe even a bit of doubt that shows in this current jolly facade of his, and Bokuto hums, picking up some grass from where they’re sitting on the stairs to the shrine. He rubs it between his fingers and a small smile twirls at his lips when his skin gets dyed a bit of green. Lately, he'd come to like this colour.

“I confessed to Akaashi,” he says, because it’s useless to hide something from Kuroo and because he wants to make sure it’s not only an illusion in his mind. “He returns the feelings.” The words escaping his own mouth warm Bokuto up, same as the sun, except from deep inside. It also makes him think back to Akaashi and to the little touches and glances, and beams, and Bokuto feels himself smile wider. He looks at Kuroo who is smiling at him as well and adds, “Thank you for making me come here.”

Kuroo laughs and he wraps his arm around Bokuto’s shoulders to pull him closer.

“I’m happy to hear it, really,” he says and his words drown the whispers of uncertainty inside Bokuto. “You will figure something out to make it work, I know it.”

Bokuto turns around and he hugs Kuroo because he doesn’t know what to do with himself, where to put all the feelings and emotions which are now cramped in his body. He squeezes Kuroo hard and doesn’t want to let go, Kuroo's warm body calming Bokuto down in the same way it did back when the war has just started and they had to get ready to flee, not knowing if they ever will see each other again.

Kuroo was right back then, saying that they will, they will meet sooner than Bokuto thinks, he’s sure of that, and now Bokuto wishes Kuroo is right once again.

Kuroo's hands are soothing on his back.

"Hey there, hey, it's all good."

Bokuto wishes that for once, his life was a bit easier.

-

Shouyou hops away, singing happily that he’s gotten another mint candy, and Akaashi lets out a little amused laugh.

“He really likes you,” he says, and Bokuto hums, gently nudging Akaashi with his elbow.

“Better than Kuroo?”

Akaashi looks at Bokuto, standing just a tiny bit taller than him; it’s the first time Akaashi’s wearing geta sandals as well, and thus it is slightly unusual when they’re nearly of the same height. Bokuto likes it nonetheless, maybe even better than being quite a bit taller than Akaashi. He finds himself catching Akaashi’s glances more often when they’re like this. It makes his heart melt.

“Kuroo might still have the upper hand,” Akaashi says, and there’s a teasing pink of his tongue peeking out when he licks at his lips, without thinking, “the candies he gives to Shouyou are sweeter, but sometimes he doesn’t have them. However, you, Bokuto, always have candies, even if they’re not as sweet.” Akaashi smiles knowingly at him, but his eyes are curious. Before Bokuto can say anything, he asks, “I’ve been wondering, why the mint ones?”

Bokuto gives him a smile and shrugs, hiding his hands in the holes of his yukata sleeves.

"It helps me focus,” he says, squaring his shoulders a little bit. He gets the candy between his teeth and grins at Akaashi before letting it disappear in his mouth again. “And the scent is somewhat refreshing, relaxing. Do you want to try it as well?”

He shakes the little box inside his sleeve, ready to take it out again, but Akaashi shakes his head.

“I’m okay, thank you.” He looks at Bokuto again, their eyes locking, and he says, “I think I’m plenty focused.”

Bokuto smiles and he lets his eyes travel down to Akaashi’s lips, his neck and collarbone peeking from under yukata. He thinks, he might be a bit too focused right now as well. It hasn’t been long since they’ve started forming a deeper, more intimate bond between themselves, but with the knowledge of each other’s mutual feelings, it’s easier to let the thoughts wander to yet to be experienced things. It’s not only the physical sensualities that Bokuto is after, but he would be lying if he said he’s not attracted to Akaashi’s body as much as he is to his character.

“Let’s go?” Akaashi asks, and there’s a shift of his glare, awareness of Bokuto’s, and perhaps his own thoughts bringing out the redness in his cheeks. Bokuto wants to kiss it away, to feel the warmth of it under his lips, but instead, he places his hand on Akaashi’s back, gently, tenderly, and nods.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

-

They go on the walks a lot, it being the easiest way to spend some time alone, without the neighbours who are always around in the bar. Bokuto visits _Nanohana_ more often now though, sometimes with Kuroo or with Daichi, sometimes alone, lingering around until everyone leaves and he can be with Akaashi only. There’s still a little fear nagging them from inside, making them think of what-ifs, making them keep the distance and letting their fingers touch only when passing the cup or jug of sake.

When walking, though, no one questions their closeness as that’s what everyone is used to in the district. It’s always more fun to go for a walk with someone instead of doing it alone. And so, they walk.

They walk along the river and to the park, down the little dusty paths and to wide fields along the railroad. Shadows of the war are still scattered here, but even though at first the dirty parts of old aeroplanes and forgotten, stained pieces of metal make Bokuto frown and look away, something in that emptiness calls him to come back, but only with Akaashi, always with Akaashi.

It’s somehow easier to talk there, let out the doubts and sorrows piled up over the years, and as much as Bokuto wants to talk only about good, nice, beautiful things, he knows he can’t run away from grayness of the past.

“Because it’s a more complex emotion, it lets you get to know more about the others,” Akaashi explains in that calm, even voice of his, when Bokuto comments on them always ending up with sad, sometimes even painful talks here.

The wind is whistling silently through the cracks in the metal plate closeby, but the sun is scorching, making them forget all about chilly breeze; when Bokuto touches Akaashi's hair, it’s warm under his fingers. Akaashi’s crouching where they’re sitting on the grass, he’s resting his jaw on his knees, and without thinking, Bokuto buries his nose in Akaashi’s hair.

It’s warm and it smells a bit of dust. There’s a scent that Bokuto cannot name clinging to it, but it reminds him of _Nanohana_ bar and it reminds him a bit of rain.

He nuzzles his nose, and when Akaashi lets out an amused hum, muttering softly for Bokuto not to be ridiculous, there’s that feeling - _it -_ coming back to Bokuto’s chest. It overwhelms him fast, making it seem that his body is too small for him; it can’t fit in and suddenly, everything wants to escape him in tears. Instead, he swallows and he tries to use the words.

“I want to share everything with you,” he says and he means it.

After a moment, Akaashi places his hand on Bokuto’s knee. Slowly, he lifts his head, and Bokuto lifts his as well, looking at Akaashi’s face. It’s tanned a bit more than it was weeks ago, but there’s still a certain paleness to it from staying indoors most of the time, for staying up late every night.

Akaashi takes a deep breath.

“Where have you been all this time,” he hushes; it’s like a whisper of the wind. Akaashi’s not asking, though, he doesn’t want the answer. Instead, the words sound like a confession, a plea that soon gets sealed with a soft touch of Akaashi’s lips against Bokuto’s.

And just like that, suddenly, Bokuto’s being kissed. It’s soft and slow, and Akaashi’s careful as if Bokuto’s lips are fragile and could break under a slight bit too much pressure. It’s barely Akaashi’s lips ghosting over Bokuto’s, checking if they’re real, if they’re here, if it’s happening.

It’s the first kiss for Bokuto, but upteenth for Akaashi, and when Akaashi pulls away, Bokuto follows after his lips, catching them into another, and another kiss, each of them a bit longer, a bit fiercer but never too much. It makes Bokuto’s heart race, his hands tremble from sensation and he feels the sudden urge to kiss all of Akaashi, to leave the permanent trace of his affection, as part of him fills up with hatred for every single man who kissed Akaashi before in filthy alleys and dark rooms, under the bridges and on the seats of gloomy, scary cars made for war. He's heard of it, in distressful, shameful hushes from Akaashi, in unspoken sorry's and I-wish-I-could-change-this's, and he wishes he could change it himself, go back in time, come to Akaashi in time, before everything happens, before Akaashi starts making the wrong, easiest choices. He wants to touch Akaashi himself, carefully, lovingly, and show that it's to make both of them feel good, to show their feelings, and not because there are money, food or a roof you can spend the night under for that.

Bokuto adores Akaashi, in a way that no one has before, and he wants to make sure Akaashi knows it, that he believes it. He runs his lips to Akaashi’s cheeks dusted with pink, and he lets his hands wander to Akaashi’s shoulders, his neck and his hair, as he repeats the same words into Akaashi’s ear, “Where have _you_ been all this time, where have _you_ been.”

Akaashi doesn’t answer, not immediately. He pulls away a bit, breathing slightly more heavily than before, and he takes Bokuto’s hand between his. Bokuto curls his fingers, getting hold of Akaashi’s hand as well, and finally, he sees Akaashi smile.

It’s a small smile, but it’s a smile nevertheless, and Bokuto is content with that.

The wind blows the hair away from his face, but it doesn’t blow away the heat. His lips are burning, and he finds himself thinking that Akaashi could break him, that Akaashi could easily start a war inside him, and leave him scarred and hurt. What he does, though, is comfort.

“I don’t want this to end,” he says, in a whisper, and even though it makes Bokuto happy, it also makes him sad. It makes him sad they have to think of such things, that it’s engraved in their minds, that there is a wall, a definite “Stop” at the end of the path they’re taking, and nothing can really let them pass it.

He wants to fix the world as easily as he can fix cars, and bicycles, and radios in the repair shop. He’s just not sure where the main problem lies.

-

“How do you write kanji character for ‘concern?’” Bokuto asks, frowning as the strokes of a pen don’t make up the image in his head on paper. Kuroo hums from where he’s lying on the ground, a few rays of the sunlight coming in through the window warming his legs. He lifts up his arm and in the air, he moves his finger as if tracing the lines only he can see.

“You start with a ‘heart’ radical, then three dots, blip, blip, blip, little cross below them, in an opened box.” Kuroo finishes the invisible character with a straight line as the side of the mentioned opened box, and he tilts his head to look if Bokuto understood him.

Bokuto is nodding to himself, writing down the kanji character on the paper. His face breaks into a smile.

“Oh, this! Now it looks right, thanks!” He also mumbles some sort of comment to himself, but Kuroo doesn’t pay much attention to it. He rolls on his side, propping his head on his hand, and reaches to nudge Bokuto with his feet.

“Do I dare to ask, what concerns are you writing about to your Mother?” he drags the words out, lazily, as he watches Bokuto quickly fill the paper with lines of black ink. Bokuto always hurries when he’s writing, therefrom, he skips some words and makes silly mistakes. It feels almost as if the thoughts flow too fast in his head and he can't keep up with them. In a way, it’s charming.

“About the future, that I worry a wee bit what awaits me,” Bokuto stops and looks at Kuroo, giving him a reassuring smile when he adds, “But I made sure to let my mother know that everything is fine, because it is, indeed, very fine!”

There's a short silence and then, a little rustle when Kuroo shifts in his place. He escapes the sunlight, by a mere centimeter, and shadows, still weak in the daytime, engulf his legs as well as his body.

“Did you tell her about Akaashi?”

It’s immediate, the sweet rosiness that colours Bokuto’s cheeks, the eyes darting away to keep the intimate thoughts to himself, a little, somewhat fond stutter to his words.

“I- I mentioned that there is someone who makes me feel light an- and blissful.” He takes a deep breath, but with the coming sigh his face saddens, gloominess casting a spell over him. His voice is smaller when he opens his mouth again, “Someone who I would ask the hand of if I could. I wish I could do all of this properly.”

Kuroo stays silent for a while again, and Bokuto lowers the pen down to paper once more, adding a couple lines to the letter before signing it at the bottom.

“Add greetings from me,” Kuroo finally says and Bokuto lets out a chuckle before he nods and writes another line of slightly messy characters. Kuroo watches Bokuto a bit longer, and then decides to ask, “If you could, do you think you would ask Akaashi to marry you at once?”

Bokuto lets out a soft puff as if he’s been expecting the question and has long prepared the answer. He folds his letter and puts it in the envelope, then turns around to properly face Kuroo.

“Not immediately,” he says and the joyous glistening is coming back to his eyes as he plays out the scene in his mind. “I believe it would make him uncomfortable, however honest my proposal was. I would want him, both of us, to feel wholly at ease with each other before taking another step forward. I would not want to prolong waiting, however, as even now it’s difficult not to act on current feelings alone.”

“Times are changing, Koutarou. Some people start with weeks or even months of courtship before marrying. Look at Ryuunosuke and Shimizu or also Daichi with Michimiya. You don’t need to marry first thing nowadays. And I am sure Akaashi doesn’t expect you to propose for you to, well, start sleeping around. Not only because that’s not going to work for you two.”

“‘Sleeping around,’” Bokuto repeats with a little snort and Kuroo rolls his eyes.

“Having sex,” he says and clears his throat. He opens his mouth to say something more, but stops himself, instead just furrowing his eyebrows in thought.

Bokuto leans back in his floor chair and lets out a groan, reaching up and messing up his hair with his hands.

“That’s not the reason why I’d marry him,” he says and when he looks at Kuroo, the other can see the reason written all over Bokuto’s face, in his lively, warm eyes and affectionate smile.

Kuroo doesn’t need to ask why; he simply says, “I know.”


	7. -seven-

It's mid summer when Ryuunosuke marries Kiyoko, a lovely day, even though a slight bit too hot as the clouds have hurried away to the very corners of the blue sky. Bokuto finds himself with teary eyes, blurry images of smiling newlyweds making his heart beat a bit faster with genuine joy.

"Maybe you're next, Daichi," Kuroo comments, bumping his shoulder against Daichi's. Both of them are looking at Michimiya who is chatting with the owners of a little sweets and snacks shop, Hitoka and Tadashi. Bokuto hasn't talked much to them, but Yamaguchi household seems to be nice people, a bit of a shy side, but always helpful. Michimiya is less shy than them, but none less nicer. Bokuto knows how much Daichi cherishes her.

"Maybe," Daichi says, a tender smile softening his features. "I'm thinking about that," he admits and then shifts his eyes to Kuroo and Bokuto. "You two should start thinking about some courtship as well. Other guys will steal all the girls."

Kuroo laughs and, Bokuto's not sure if he does it for him as well or for himself only, but he brings his arm around Bokuto's shoulders and pulls him closer.

"Perhaps we're fond of certain loneliness, enjoying only the sight of others love."

Daichi snorts at this as he always does at Kuroo's high phrases. He opens his mouth to say something, but he catches on Akaashi talking to Konoha's cousin, Suzumeda Kaori, and a grin comes to his face.

"Take example of Akaashi."

Kuroo laughs, and Bokuto, somehow, makes himself smile. Deep inside, however, it hurts. He doesn't like the idea of Daichi imagining Akaashi with someone else. It's him who should be in that picture, he thinks, but he can't voice it out. Akaashi tilts his head, as if he's felt the eyes on him, and he gives a polite smile. It turns into a more genuine, soft one quite fast, though. Bokuto doesn't know what it looks like for Kuroo and Daichi, but for himself, it looks like Akaashi's smiling for him only. Somehow, it calms him down.

It shows on his face, perhaps, as Daichi hums, nudging Kuroo with his elbow.

"It seems like our dear Koutarou is thinking sweetly of someone," he says. "Won't you tell us who is making you blush?"

Kuroo looks a bit flustered, not knowing what to say, and before Daichi can catch onto something, Bokuto lets out a sigh and crosses his arms over his chest. It makes him feel protected, even though he's not completely sure what from.

"I will tell you sometime," he says. "I want to keep it to myself a bit longer."

Daichi looks at Kuroo and Kuroo shrugs.

"Mysterious, aren't we?" Daichi comments, but there is no bite in his voice, no push to make Bokuto say everything right now. "I hope it all goes well for you. She'll be a lucky girl to have you."

Bokuto chuckles at this, at Daichi's genuine smile and good-meaning words. He wonders if he will think the same when one day he gets to know it's not a girl, he wonders if Daichi will think lucky of Akaashi or perhaps Bokuto himself, if he will wish them well. He wants to believe that it won't change anything; Daichi doesn't look like someone who would mind his two male friends loving each other on a different level than friendship, but Bokuto knows that sometimes even parents turn completely different at such news and deep inside, he's scared.

"Who wouldn't be lucky to have Koutarou," Kuroo says and Bokuto watches Daichi nod in agreement.

He takes a deep breath and he looks away, following the flashes of sun reflecting on the water. The river seems to be in no hurry, its little waves dancing around, even though a bit off to the sound of music around them. Bokuto suddenly wants to take Akaashi's hand and lead him there, to the riverbank with lush grass and tiny patches of flowers. He wants to embrace him close, he wants to feel Akaashi's lips on his skin, and most of all, he wants them to be in the place of Ryuunosuke and Kiyoko.

Bokuto gets swept away by emotions and thoughts, entering a different world for a while where all the well known voices tone down and only a comforting mutter of the wind tickles his ears. It’s slow and it’s relaxing.

He's brought back when he hears Kuroo calling Akaashi's name, the only word making it through the curtain of some kind of ignorance, some kind of escape. And then, Akaashi's in front of him, his lip corners trying to rise up when he speaks.

"Bokuto? Would you fancy a cup of sake from Miss Kiyoko's hometown? I was asked to order it for this celebration."

Bokuto's eyes drop to the tiny cup Akaashi's holding. He doesn't want sake, not really, but he craves for the touch of Akaashi's skin against his when he passes the cup, lingering long enough to feel the warmth of it but not too long to be noticed. Bokuto lets out a hum, and his eyes meet Akaashi's.

"Yes, please."

-

Akaashi's lips have a faint taste of sake clinging to them when Bokuto catches them between his, but he's not even tipsy. Bokuto still remembers when he first commented on Akaashi being a bit like a geisha in terms of consuming alcohol; Bokuto's cheeks would already start rosing, but Akaashi could go on a lot longer, just like the woman who has to entertain the men throughout the night while they drink together. Akaashi laughed then, simply saying he's nothing special.

In Bokuto's eyes, however, he is. He is special, and in more ways than one.

"Where is your mind wandering?" Akaashi asks when he pulls away. He lifts his hand to brush Bokuto's hair away from his eyes and Bokuto notices the tatami ornament impressed on his palm. He catches Akaashi's hand and runs his fingers along the faint lines.

"A bit to the past and a bit to the future," Bokuto says, giving him a tiny smile. Akaashi lets out a hum.

"Please bring your mind back to the present," he asks, and there's a note of worry tainting his voice. Instinctively, Bokuto covers Akaashi's hand with his own. In a moment, he feels his skin warming up.

"It's here now," he says and takes a deep breath. "I'm here," he adds and Akaashi leans closer to him, embracing him with his free arm.

"Good," he says. It feels like he's waiting, Bokuto is not sure for what, but for a few moments there's something unspoken hanging in the air before Akaashi finds the words to voice out his thoughts. "Future daunts me," he confesses, and together with Akaashi's body pressing closer, the feeling seeps into Bokuto as well.

"I know," Bokuto says, in a whisper, and he lets go of Akaashi's hand just to touch his face, make him tilt his head so their eyes can meet. "Maybe we should have lived in Edo period," he says. His lips curl into a little smile and Akaashi mirrors the expression. He lets out a small chuckle, even.

"The floating world full of pleasures?" he asks as his hand travels under Bokuto's shirt, a fast touch of his fingers against Bokuto's skin, and then he's pulling away, he's standing up. "Maybe it would have been nice," he adds, and he offers Bokuto his hand.

Bokuto accepts it, thoughtlessly, easily, the same way he accepts the sun outside, the air, the wind. He accepts it as if it’s the most natural thing, and he accepts it like something that right now, he wants the most in the world.

When he's up, though, Bokuto feels the urge to get a mint candy from the little box in his trousers to relax and gather his thoughts. Maybe, probably, Akaashi feels the same because he takes out his tobacco box and he points to the door with his chin.

“Let’s go for a walk?”

Bokuto beams and he nods. He likes walking with Akaashi, especially in the late evenings. The dim lights in the streets cast warm shadows on Akaashi’s face and the dark sky makes him a bit more talkative, a bit more affectionate. Just like the mint candies that Bokuto likes so much, Akaashi’s talks make him focused, they relax him.

He follows the smoke, slowly twirling in the night air, too lazy to move away without wind’s help, almost like Bokuto and Akaashi themselves, slowing down at the bridge until they stop. Akaashi leans against the bridge and tilts his head up, helping the smoke of the cigarette travel up to the sky when he breathes out.

“It must have been on the nights like this when people would gather to tell a hundred horror stories,” he glances at Bokuto, who has put his elbows on the bridge guardrail. Bokuto looks at him as well, his eyes asking Akaashi to continue. Akaashi’s lips twitch into a smile and he takes another drag of the cigarette before continuing, “Lighting a hundred candles and dousing them one by one after each ghoulish tale, bringing the ghosts and monsters out, waiting for something terrible to happen-”

“Why would they even play a _game_ like this, it’s insane,” Bokuto says, furrowing his eyebrows. He’s heard of this gathering of weird tales, but it’s still beyond him to understand why would people seek stress and dread, playing with spiritual energy and trying to turn the room into the beacon for the dead.

“It’s said it was created as a test of courage between samurai,” Akaashi explains, his voice just a bit above a whisper as if he’s afraid to wake someone up although it’s only them in the night. “Are you scared of ghosts, Bokuto?”

Bokuto chuckles at this, but the sound is slightly strained. His hand wanders up to his hair and he brushes a few silver strands away, even though they weren’t in his eyes. It’s not that he’s scared of the ghosts; he simply can’t really leave them behind.

“Not as much as of the living,” he finally says. He feels rather than sees how Akaashi’s fingers end up in his hair as well, his touch soft and calming. Without the words, Bokuto feels understood, better than by anyone else.

“I know that I was the one who said our relationship will not last, it cannot last in this society, and yet, I sometimes stay awake at night asking myself how can I keep it going,” Akaashi says. He wets his lips, and from the corner of his eye, Bokuto can see his cigarette hanging forgotten between the fingers of his other hand, smouldering. “Very much like the petals and like the leaves in autumn, I fall for you as well, Bokuto. I fall for your eyes and laughter, for your lips and your hands, and your hair. I fall for the whole of you and I do not know what to do with myself.” His hand travels to Bokuto’s neck and then down his back, a ghostly touch, Bokuto thinks, that is more comforting that frightening. “And the best, the most I could come up with was this bridge.”

“This bridge?”

Akaashi lets out the tiniest of puffs as if he can’t believe himself what he’s about to say.

“This bridge,” he repeats and he takes a deep breath, “It’s ridiculous, but Bokuto, you _do_ make me think of ridiculous things, hoping they can be real. If the bridge can connect the two banks of the river that should not be together, how are we any different?”

Bokuto laughs and he feels the sudden need to kiss Akaashi. And so he does, even though the taste of tobacco makes him frown a bit.

“I am mad for you, Akaashi, with a bridge or without.”

“Stop laughing, Bokuto, it’s not funny.”

“I know, I know,” Bokuto says. He lets out a deep breath and looks ahead, into the darkness swallowing the land where the neighbourhood and the town end. “But I mean it. For now, we simply need to think of the present, right? Not of the past and not of the future. Here and now, that’s all what matters.”

“The floating, floating world,” Akaashi comments, with a silent sigh, but he sounds somewhat amused and the light is back in his eyes. "Do you know how to check if something might be poisonous?" he suddenly asks and he looks down. He takes out his tobacco box and puts the burned cigarette in there. Then, he takes out a new one and starts fiddling with it between his fingers. Bokuto drops his gaze to look at Akaashi's hands as well.

"How?" he asks. He wants to take Akaashi's hand, bring it to his lips, feel the warmth of it. Instead, he watches how Akaashi brings his hand to his own lips, lighting a cigarette with his other hand.

"I heard it yesterday in the bar. Apparently, if you rub something to your neck and there's a reaction to the skin, if it leaves a mark, then it's most probably poisonous."

Bokuto shifts his eyes to Akaashi's neck now. Under the collar of his shirt, the faint marks Bokuto’s ended up leaving there a while ago are painting his skin in red. Bokuto knows that similar marks are on his neck as well.

"It's mostly for the food and drinks, right?" he asks. Akaashi smiles faintly at him and nods.

"It's for what is meant to keep you alive."

Bokuto hums and he turns around to lean against the guardrail with his back, the same way as Akaashi is doing. On this side, far away the sky is coloured in lighter hues. Bokuto takes a deep breath.

"If I had to choose between starving to death or eating something that will make me feel better for a while before killing me, I'd choose the latter," he says.

Akaashi rests his head on Bokuto’s shoulder.

His cigarette’s end flicks with angry red, and then he slowly exhales a little cloud of smoke. It makes everything look blurry, but it vanishes soon. Akaashi tilts his head in an attempt to look at Bokuto’s face, and then looks back into the distance.

"Me too," he says and his words sound as soft as the stream of the river beneath them.

The taste of mint candy is welcome in Bokuto's mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and sorry for making you wait for the chapters; it's become a bit of monthly thing indeed. there's not much left though, the story is gonna wrap up soon
> 
> some notes about stuff in the chapter:  
> The gathering of a hundred horror stories is a real thing, it's called "Hyakumonogatari kaidankai" in japanese; I find it very interesting myself, you can find some more info [here](https://hyakumonogatari.com/what-is-hyakumonogatari/), for example!  
> About geisha and alcohol, I remember teacher in Japanese culture class telling that being able to drink a lot of alcohol was a very important thing for geisha as they need to keep up with drinking with men and have numerous clients, so the amount increases!


	8. -eight-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please bear in mind that this is not completely accurate to Japanese history and is more like set in post-war-Japan-inspired-world  
> thank you all for reading, the next update might be the final one!

As much as trying to find his own place in the nowadays world was the main reason why Bokuto has decided to come to Sawamura's repair shop, opportunity to save up money to send to his mother encouraged him to do it. It made his mother genuinely happy, the positive emotions seeping into her writing, into her letters, often making her lines turn a bit to the upper side as if they too are going up, up, up in high spirits.

It also gives Bokuto a chance to save money for himself, to live up a little bit and find ways to get away from the past weighing him down. And this, he hasn’t done in a while.

When he thinks about spending a lot of money in the bar, he feels a bit uneasy. He knows, however, that he’s keeping up just fine - he doesn’t get drunk there,  he doesn’t even buy any alcohol sometimes, simply sitting there with snacks or a glass of water. Kuroo had once said that  _ Nanohana _ is sort of the community center of Fukuroubashi district; it’s not simply about drinking. Bokuto realises it’s a bit of exaggeration, but it’s also truth and Bokuto clings to it to make himself feel better.

The money that doesn’t end up in the bar or in other little Fukuroubashi shops and food stalls, go to the brownish envelope, the top of which is already softened from folding and unfolding each time Bokuto puts in money there or takes them out to count and see how much he has. He doesn’t have much yet, but one day, he wants to buy a car, perhaps a small and not too expensive one, but just enough to ride back home, take his mom on little trips on the weekends, take Kuroo to see her again after all these years, take Daichi to meet her. Bokuto also wants to take Akaashi to introduce him to his mother or bring her here to meet him, to let her see the way his eyes light up when he gets excited about something, the way he brings character to  _ Nanohana _ . Bokuto’s mother often says that a house without people is just a shadow; it’s always people who bring the rooms to life, give them distinct smells, characters. You could take the same place, but with different people in it, it can become like night and day, distant from each other even though the only thing that has changed is the presence. And just so Akaashi’s presence is what Bokuto wants her to see.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, trying to get back to work. The car in front of him won’t repair itself, after all, and Bokuto would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing Daichi’s surprised face when he comes back and sees Bokuto’s finished with repairs. Daichi has spent the bigger part of yesterday trying to figure out what was wrong with the car, but he was of no luck. Bokuto, however, has a feeling he knows where to start.

“Alright, Mister Three-wheels,” he looks at the tiny light blue vehicle, it’s headlamps reminding of somewhat upset, guilty eyes, and he smiles, “let’s get you fixed up.”

He does not think about the money he took out of the envelope and he tries not to think how easier everything was if he already had a car. Now, it’ll have to wait.

One thing at a time, he decides, and he promises to himself that once he takes care of this three-wheeler, he can move on to taking care of his life.

He hopes, Daichi helps him with that.

-

It takes a lot more courage to say eight words than Bokuto has thought. He’s practised saying them in his room out loud, he’s muttered them countless times under his nose and even now he has them ringing in his head.

“What is it, Koutarou?” Daichi asks, trying to cut the piece of meat in his curry with the side of the spoon. Bokuto hasn’t even touched his meal yet, but he knows he won’t be able to swallow even one grain of rice if he doesn’t get the words out of his mouth.

He takes a deep breath, and finally, the simple phrase escapes his lips.

“Could you lend me your car on Tuesday?”

Daichi looks up from his curry as if he tries to read something in Bokuto’s face, and then he nods.

“Yes, of course,” he says, and finally gets the piece of meat in his spoon. He scoops some rice together with it and puts it in his mouth. “Do remind me on Monday though if I forget.”

Bokuto stares at him, at loss.

“You’re- you’re not going to ask why I need it?”

“Well,” Daichi laughs as if Bokuto’s question is ridiculous. “I supposed to ride somewhere you need? I trust you, Koutarou,” he says, reaching for the cup of cold oolong tea. “You can tell me if you want, though. I would gladly listen.”

It’s not exactly how Bokuto imagined this going, but even though now he’s not sure if it’s for the better or for the worse, at least it’s moving forward. He takes his spoon and gets some rice, dipping it into the curry sauce.

“I trust you as well,” he says before taking the spoonful of food into his mouth. It’s a bit difficult to swallow it, but the warmth soothes him. “How, um, conservative, I guess, are you?”

Daichi furrows his eyebrows and straightens them a second too late for Bokuto not to notice. He puts his spoon away and props himself on his elbows.

“Suga, Sugawara Koushi from the post office, you know him, right? He says I’m conservative because I refused to wear some brightly coloured shirt with silly ornaments.” He lets out a little chuckle and as Bokuto sees Daichi’s shoulders drop in relief, he feels himself relax as well. “I do not think traditional, old-fashioned way is always the right and fitting thing to do. I would be married to someone I don’t love if I followed all the traditions. Father tried to get me together with his friend’s daughter. I tried, we both did, but it didn’t work out for us. In an old-fashioned way, we would already be husband and wife before realising we’re not for each other.”

His voice and the words said in it sound sincere, honest as they flow without any hesitance. There’s a kind smile on Daichi’s face when he closes his mouth, and for a few moments, he looks deep in thought. Then, he takes a breath and lifts up his eyes to look at Bokuto.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

Bokuto looks down to his plate, idly trying to make a neat line that would separate rice and curry. It doesn’t really work, but it gives him time to think, to phrase the words. He wants to whisper them silently under his breath, scared that it will spread otherwise, that wind coming through the slightly opened door will catch on it and carry it away.

At the same time, however, he doesn’t want to treat himself, and Akaashi, like this. He doesn’t feel embarrassed about liking Akaashi and he doesn’t want others to see him as weak for who he really is. He puts the spoon away, giving up on the neat line, and he looks up at Daichi.

“There is. I want you to know the reason I want to borrow your car. And I want your approval, perhaps,” he says and despite himself, a little smile twirls at his lips at Daichi’s widened eyes. “Do you still remember the things we talked about during Ryuunosuke’s wedding? About courtship and love and-”

“Of course I do,” Daichi confirms. Now his lips are curled into a beam, and he’s trying to control it. “You mentioned back then someone you are fond of.”

Bokuto takes a deep breath. He can hear his own heart starting to race.

“Fondness is a very simple word for such a complex feeling,” he says. “It barely grasps a little part of what I feel and yet, I can’t find any word that would cover it all.” He bites on his lip, thinking if there is any need to get into details, if it isn’t enough to simply tell that he’s in love with Akaashi Keiji and he will always be, he’s sure of it. Bokuto’s mother has always been a strong believer that all the experiences come from people -  people who were with you, people who are with you and people who will, someday, be with you. Bokuto’s got the same idea as well, it’s always people who alter his world, it’s people who leave and it’s people who stay, and Bokuto knows that he wants, he needs Akaashi to stay. “The years after the war were, and sometimes still are horrible. I lost my father and people I cared for, I’m not even talking about home and places full of memories. The biggest change was, that with all that I lost a huge part of myself. It left an empty space in me which people I already knew could not fill in; they’ve all got their own spaces after all and you can't stretch them enough to cover everything, you know. It’d all break.

“Tetsurou invited me here fully knowing of this, I believe. A new place means new people, and new people means less empty space left. You’ve covered a great part of it, Daichi, and I’m extremely grateful for that. There was still some, or perhaps a lot of space left with cracks all around though, and here, in Fukuroubashi, I found someone who helps me fill it all in. I want to let them know it.”

“You want to propose?” Daichi asks, his voice slightly hushed as if he’s whispering a secret. And a secret it is, or at least it’s been until now.

“Here is where the trust makes its entrance,” Bokuto says. It feels like all the emotions inside him are trying to escape, explode like a mine that was stepped on. Bokuto feels like he’s holding his feet on the ground, and the moment he lifts it, it’ll all go out. “It’s someone I cannot marry. Daichi, I’m in love with Akaashi.”

It’s silent.

There’s no explosion, and there is no pain.

There’s only a quiet sigh of relief and a reassuring touch of the hand.

“I’m glad you told me, Koutarou,” Daichi says, slow and easy. He says it the same way he says “The weather is nice today” or “I want soba noodles for dinner”, he says it like it’s the most natural thing, like it’s part of his daily life which doesn’t cause any ruckus. “I have to admit, I do not really understand what it feels like to set your heart on another man, but there are many other things I do not understand. It doesn’t make them any less- I’m not even sure what word to use here,” Daichi lets out a little chuckle, a good-natured one, “They are no worse, is what I’m trying to say, and no better. I am happy that you found someone who makes you feel good. Woman or man, it does not matter,” he says, and Bokuto feels tears welling up in his eyes. He expected understanding and acceptance, at least to a certain extent, but hearing it all being confirmed sends a wave of relief through him. He does not know what he would have done if Daichi changed his opinion of him or made him leave.

“Thank you.” That’s all that Bokuto manages to say.

Daichi watches him a bit longer, his eyes warm and caring, like always. Then, he asks, “Is it mutual?”

Bokuto nods and a few tears run down, his emotions flowing free, too great to be bottled up. He brushes them away.

“Yes,” he voices out, somehow, and Daichi hums, approvingly.

“That’s nice. Where are you taking him on Tuesday?”

Now, Bokuto smiles.

“Fukuroudani Tower is finally open. I want to take him there.”

“Symbol of country’s rebuilding after the devastation of war,” Daichi says, “Rebirth of optimism, wasn’t it?”

“If the whole Japan could overcome problems, we can as well, right?” Bokuto laughs and Daichi joins him. He points to Bokuto’s plate and he picks up his own spoon as well.

“It’s a unique feeling, standing up there, in the sky,” he says. “Makes you feel both small and big at the same time. I am sure both of you will enjoy it a lot.”

Bokuto hums, letting his thoughts wander there, to the tomorrow, to the sky, to Akaashi. There’s a spur in his chest, which makes him feel like anything is possible, that he and Akaashi can reach out for more, reach out for everything they want. He lets out a sigh, a relieved, content one, and he nods.

“I think so too.”

-

It feels like a date, sitting next to each other in the little car and going somewhere without any other people. As if being in a bubble, Bokuto doesn’t need to think what he says, doesn’t need to worry that someone will walk in, someone will see them and hear them, and disgust will deform their faces at the sight of such a relationship. Akaashi seems to be less cautious as well, his thoughts escaping through his lips without too much care, his eyes lingering on Bokuto, his mouth corners tilted upwards.

“I cannot believe you borrowed Daichi’s car for us to go to Fukuroudani central area.”

Bokuto smiles, his eyes jumping from the road to Akaashi for a short moment. Akaashi’s wearing a jacket atop his shirt. It’s not a perfect fit, a size too big maybe as it makes his frame seem somewhat smaller. He looks nice nevertheless, beautiful as always in Bokuto’s eyes, even though Akaashi himself would never agree on it.

“Have you ever been there?” Bokuto asks as the tall tower appears in the gaps between buildings. It’s a lot different than Fukuroubashi district; while the dark wooden houses line along the river there, here the buildings rise from the ground grey from all the ashes but covered in colourful signs. The country is taking steps forward and Bokuto knows it’s all for the better, but the lack of greenness around somehow stings.

“I haven’t,” Akaashi says, leaning forward to see the top of the tower through the windscreen. “I’ve never had a reason to come back here after moving away,” he explains. From the corner of his eye Bokuto sees that Akaashi’s looking at him, watching him. It’s not uncomfortable though. On the contrary, it’s pleasant.

“I hope it won’t disappoint us,” he says with a little laugh.

“I’m positive it won’t,” Akaashi says and he lets out an amused puff. “We’ve found far less interesting places enjoyable, thus and so it will be delightful. I heard, on clear days you can see Mount Fuji from up there.”

“And it is clear today,” Bokuto adds, relieved at Akaashi’s optimistic approach. He doesn’t really care about the view that much; he cares more about the experience of going up to the sky, which is supposed to be unreachable, with Akaashi, of the lightweight feeling inside that Daichi has told him about.

Even so, when they finally come to the tower, feeling a bit dizzy going up above all the other buildings around, Bokuto finds the view stunning. The grey sea of buildings with the lack of green does not excite him, but it doesn’t change the fact that he finds it impressive what the people can do. He lets his eyes travel further away, looking for Fukuroubashi and somewhere on the horizon, for his home. Bokuto’s not sure if he actually sees it, or maybe he just imagines he does, but it makes him feel good. Everything is alright, everything is calm and easeful. The only dark smoke in the air comes from factories and not from fires, there are no aeroplanes in the sky, no warning signals and no fear of what comes next. Everything moves on, the frightened screams and cries are changed with chaste mutters and soft laughter, old dirty clothes are now colourful, and Bokuto thinks if people can adapt that easily, why sometimes it is still so difficult to accept harmless things.

“Look, it’s there,” Akaashi says, pointing somewhere in the distance. His hand is on Bokuto’s arm to get his attention. His touch is warm and familiar, and even with, or maybe because of all the people around, it feels intimate.

The mountain far, far away is tranquil. It’s easy to glance up and down its’ slopes, miniature, painted with the white of the snow. Both Bokuto’s and Akaashi’s eyes are glued to it, and the mountain stares back at them, knowing everything, accepting everything.

Bokuto feels lightweight, he feels small and big at the same time, just like Daichi’s told him.

He places his hand over Akaashi’s and Akaashi immediately looks at him. Bokuto lets himself caress Akaashi with his eyes. Akaashi’s the contrast to Bokuto; his irises are dark green and his skin is tanned, complimented with black hair. His character is quite opposite as well: Akaashi’s calm where Bokuto’s loud, he’s careful and calculating while Bokuto relies on feelings a lot. Yet deep inside they want the same things, they care about those same things, and Bokuto wonders that maybe even now, Akaashi’s having the same thoughts as well.

He opens his mouth, and without any preparation, without any hesitation and worrying, barely in whisper he asks,

“If we lived in a different world, would you marry me?”

The words that leave Akaashi’s lips, in a whisper as well, do not flow as smooth as usual. There’s a desperate note to them, a slight strain as if he’s keeping himself from telling much, much more. It’s honest though, and it’s something that Bokuto would have said himself as well.

“I’d marry you in any world.”


	9. -nine-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never expected for this to take so long and I'm sorry you probably started forgetting what was happening in the story in last chapters, but after writing and editing, and rereading, and editing, and rethinking, and editing, I think I'm finally done with the story!  
> I said that it's going to be the last chapter, but instead I separated it into two and I hope you will understand why! Both of them are coming up at once though, so yes, it is the very last bits of this story.   
> Hopefully, they will be enjoyable ones

The little yellow leaves are scattered along the paths, snuggling together in the corners of the bridge and whispering something silently to themselves; it's all they can do after leaving the branches of the trees a tad bit too early. The quiet rustling carries away with the wind and Bokuto follows it, without any hurry in his step. He follows it to the building across the path, to a bit of yellowness that is blooming all year long on the sign of _Nanohana_ bar. It makes him let out a soft, content sigh. Over the weeks and months, this place has become another little haven for both his body and soul, and barely having one before coming here, Bokuto’s still astonished by the idea of having a few safe-houses where he can feel at ease.

He spares a glance to the left, to the valleys and fields, and houses lined along the river. There are no vivid, flashy colours anymore and even the greenness of the grass has somehow faded as if it was covered with a blanket of slightly greyish, slightly brownish hues. The nanohana flowers are long gone from the fields as well; all of them have fallen asleep until next year. It doesn't sadden Bokuto, however, as he knows he will see them again soon. For now, he marvels at the new pallet which has begun to take over the landscape. Warm, cosy colours of autumn leaves comfort Bokuto, it’s the season that he’s a part of himself, having just been reminded of it a little while ago with a humble celebration of his birthday, and he realises, maybe that’s why he’s been waiting for it all along.

"Bokuto, good morning," Akaashi says the moment Bokuto slides the door to the bar open. He's not sure if the little windows make it possible for Akaashi to see him coming - he's tried peeking through them himself, but to no avail - or if Akaashi's simply that fast to register who's showing up. It brings a smile to Bokuto's face either way, and it even lets him hope a little bit that perhaps it's just a gut feeling Akaashi has when Bokuto is around.

"It's already afternoon," Bokuto says, walking up to the bar. Akaashi has the heater set up close by, and Bokuto hums at the warmth coming from it. It wasn’t cold per se outside, but much like a cat, Bokuto still sits closer to the heater. "Did you wake up only now?" he asks, tilting his head to catch Akaashi's glance. The skin under his eyes seems a bit darker, as usual after the long night on Saturday, but there's some glowing to his face and a beam is curling at his lips. Perhaps, Bokuto lets himself believe, Akaashi’s amused to see him.

"A while ago," Akaashi says as he props himself with his elbows on the bar, his gaze sliding along the little bottles and jars lined on the side. “I couldn’t fall asleep,” he confesses after a moment. Bokuto doesn’t question it, knowing well himself that on some nights, sleep does not want to come easily. He’s experienced it often enough to know exactly what it’s like, and he knows that the small words of comfort won’t really make it better.

“If you’re sleepy, you could go upstairs to nap,” he offers instead. “I will call you when someone comes.”

Akaashi shakes his head.

“It’s alright. I slept plenty, I believe. It simply dragged into the better part of the day. Would you like some tea? I was about to boil the water.”

“Sure,” Bokuto says, watching Akaashi turn around and walk away, disappearing into the little room which Bokuto has learned long ago to be the kitchen. Left alone to his own devices, Bokuto thinks back to the main reason he’s here today. There’s a clear goal in his mind and it’s different from the usual, sometimes secretive meetings they have. Now, Bokuto doesn’t necessarily want the tea, but a little distraction, a moment to gather up his thoughts is welcome.

Yet, even the mint taste lingering in his mouth from before does not help much today.

Akaashi comes back with a cigarette in his mouth, not bothering to go outside as he’s not working at the moment. The smell of tobacco starts tickling Bokuto’s nose, the same way his thoughts are tickling him from inside.

“I was wondering, would you like to go to the baths tomorrow morning? It’s your leisure time until noon, correct?”

Akaashi takes a drag, and Bokuto takes a deep breath.

“I have something to tell you,” Bokuto blurts out instead of replying; he’s been keeping the words to himself for too long perhaps.

Akaashi furrows his eyebrows and he stiffens, a bit, not knowing what to expect next. Bokuto slaps his own cheeks; there’s a sudden change in him, he can both feel it himself and see it in Akaashi’s eyes. Akaashi lowers his cigarette, not daring to smoke at this moment, and then, he lets out a cautious, yet filled with a certain tenderness, “Yes?”

Bokuto steadies himself, his eyes focused fully on Akaashi.

“I do not have enough money for a house,” he starts, “and I’m yet to buy a car, and you are worth a lot more than any of this, and by all means more than this-” Bokuto gives Akaashi a small, somewhat nervous smile, and he takes out a tiny box, putting it on the bar in front of Akaashi. It’s daintily done one, square, with its sides of rich brownish orange; the mister who Bokuto bought it from said that it’s a close shade to Bokuto’s eyes, it’ll enchant the one it’s for. There are faint ornaments on it, a thin, delicate metal frame separating it from the cream white lid, a branch of blossoms drawn in a feathery line atop. It was the finest one Bokuto could afford. He bites his lip, aware of his actions, and he opens his mouth again, “But I hope that it is not in these things where our feelings lie, and that-”

Looking up from the box, he meets Akaashi’s eyes again, wide and with tears welling in the corners of them at the realisation, and he forgets completely what he was about to say, the half practised half improvised lines, the high phrases that never really fit him too well.

He opens the box instead, the empty little box with a cut across the light, soft padding for the ring. Akaashi looks at it and then he lifts his eyes to look at Bokuto, lovingly, fondly. Bokuto feels his heart melt; his emotions are reaching the extremes fast. It’s too much to hold it all in.

“It’s invisible,” Bokuto says, his feelings spilling in the form of tears from his watery eyes. They are not sad tears, however, not this time. They’re not unwelcome. The tears now make him feel wondrously alive, and he lets out a little, tiny laugh, “The real ring is not here, for I could not afford it. And yet I could not wait any longer. Akaashi, I- Akaashi _Keiji_ , will you accept me as I am? With silvered hair and rough palms, and empty boxes and-”

“ _Yes_.” It’s soft, yet a bit shaky, just like Akaashi’s hands when he tries to put the cigarette down in the ashtray. He looks at Bokuto, still for a moment, and Bokuto is aware yet again of how much tenderness he feels for Akaashi. He picks up the box and with smiles, they both jump to their feet to get around the bar, to stand in front of each other without anything in-between. The tears are now running down Akaashi’s face as well, a reflection of Bokuto himself, and he repeats, not knowing what to do with his body, again, “Yes.”

His hand is trembling when he finally offers it for Bokuto, but his voice is steady now, and his shining eyes are focused on Bokuto’s bright ones. They are, indeed, of almost the same shade as the ring box.

“Please, put it on,” Akaashi whispers, “this invisible ring.”

He lets out a little chuckle, his face showing all of his emotions without keeping anything hidden, and Bokuto laughs himself, nodding. He takes out the invisible ring, nothing more than the air between his fingers, and puts the box away to hold Akaashi’s hand.

“And so, it is sealed now,” Bokuto says in a hush, like a secret, sliding his pale fingers along Akaashi’s bony, tanned one. Akaashi takes his hand then, and he steps a bit closer, tilting his head to press his mouth against Bokuto’s. His lips taste a bit salty.

“It is,” he says when Bokuto wraps his arms around him, holding him close and dear.

Bokuto can feel both of their hearts beating fast, except it’s somehow different from all the other times before.

The teapot whistle carries away in the bar. It’s loud, wanting attention, and yet, the tea is completely forgotten.

-

“I didn’t even think of all uncertainties of the future, didn’t consider anything at all when I said ‘yes,’” Akaashi confesses when they are sitting on the back stairs of the shrine. He’s looking at his hand, same as it’s always been, but his eyes seem to see more than those of any person met in the streets. Bokuto follows his gaze for a moment, shifting to the trees with burning colours playing on the leaves. In autumn, the greenness of Akaashi’s eyes is even more outstanding.

“Are you,” Bokuto starts, but the words don’t come out easily, “getting reluctant about it?”

It’s fast; one moment Akaashi’s eyes were on the trees and now they are staring back at Bokuto. His face is serious, yet not stern.

“Of course not,” he says. “May the godly forces of nature hear my words, I do not regret it the slightest bit.”

Bokuto smiles at this. He still remembers clearly how Akaashi used to say their relationship won’t and can’t last, but he has also been with Akaashi this whole time, taking him through the change of heart and mind, seeing the desperation and want seep into his eyes when in dark nights he’d mutter he does not want Bokuto to go.

Bokuto is not going anywhere though, not now and not ever. He reaches for Akaashi’s hand, slightly cold as the clouds have decided to keep the sunlight away this morning, and he pulls it closer. Akaashi’s whole body leans in as well and Bokuto hums, pleased.

“I sometimes think I might be dreaming,” he says. Akaashi tilts his head, trying to catch Bokuto’s eyes. He smiles a little.

“My dreams are never as nice,” he intones. He takes a deep breath and Bokuto notices a little shiver run through his body when he breathes out. He gathers himself to stand up and tugs on Akaashi’s hand for him to follow.

“Let’s go get warm in the baths,” he says. “They should be open already.”

Akaashi smiles.

“Alright,” he says, and indeed, alright it is.

-

It is not the wedding night and it is not honeymoon, as they will have neither of those, but Bokuto does come to Akaashi’s bedroom and for the first time, he lies in Akaashi’s futon.

It comes naturally; they’re sitting on the floor, enjoying the last rays of sun shining through the window while Akaashi is working on the accounting papers for the bar and Bokuto is going through the old magazines which have the section of comic pages in them. The sun doesn’t pamper them too long though, and eventually Akaashi has to put away the papers, rubbing his hands together to warm them up as he shifts closer to Bokuto in a wordless plea to share the warmth.

The touch is nearly magical.

Much like in the sunlight itself, Akaashi warms up fast, and he whispers in Bokuto’s ear, asking him not to stop. It’s pleasant, it’s working wonders, and with the slowly coming dimness, they get engulfed by want and need easily.

Instead of putting on more clothes, Akaashi, or maybe Bokuto, slips the _hanten_ coat down his shoulders - it’s stiff, it gets in the way, and after all Bokuto is warmer than some cotton clothing.

“It’ll get even colder soon,” Bokuto says. It’s a question and it’s a warning for if not staying downstairs in the warmed up bar, Akaashi gets under blankets soon after the setting of the sun; he doesn’t have a heater for the bedroom and fire bowls with charcoal that some old ladies still use instead of heaters frighten Akaashi as he’s heard of people suffocating during the night because of the rooms being fully isolated and burning the oxygen inside. Bokuto still remembers the furrow of Akaashi’s eyebrows when he brought it up.

“It’s warm in the futon,” Akaashi says back, untying the little ribbon on Bokuto’s _hanten_ coat. “We don’t need these anymore,” he adds, and he leads Bokuto to the set up futon, unfolding the blankets. “You’re not leaving, are you?” he asks, making sure, as Bokuto stares at him, not knowing what to do. Akaashi lets out a snort, a little smile lingering on his lips when he walks to take a well-worn _yukata_. He pulls the washed out brown garment around himself after taking off his shirt and then his trousers, folding them neatly.

Bokuto feels the chillness starting to bite on his body now that there’s no one to burrow close to, and the soft bedding with Akaashi hiding in the folds of two blankets is far too inviting.

“Can I really stay the night?” he asks, watching as Akaashi nods, a bit confused at the question.

“Of course,” he says. “If you don’t mind sharing the futon, Bokuto.”

Bokuto doesn’t. He would mind sleeping separately more; it’s challenging to stay in the same room and not get the warm touch he craves for. He’s not sure he could let himself succumb to slumber in the first place.

He takes a deep breath. It’s decent to sleep together, he tells himself, for they would be properly engaged, or even married, if it was socially acceptable.

“Alright,” he says and a smile comes to his face. They might not be wearing the wedding rings, but the bond they have is already stronger than even some of the married couples. And this, Bokuto decides, is what he mostly cares about.

Akaashi chuckles when Bokuto slips in already warmish futon, his clothes left next to Akaashi’s, and he gingerly snuggles close, as if checking if he really can do it, if it’s really okay. Bokuto winds his arm around Akaashi’s body, closest it’s ever been, and Akaashi eases into the touch, letting out a sigh. It sounds relieved, as if he’s been holding it in for a while.

“I’m gone on you,” he says, in a hush, a secret confession that Bokuto’s no stranger to, and yet it sounds unimaginable, unbelievable that such words can be true, can reach his ears and be meant for him, only for him.

Bokuto doesn’t find the words anymore to express his own feelings, the spoken phrases never fully conveying what’s happening inside of him. And so he simply whispers Akaashi’s name, putting everything he feels in two simple syllables,

“Keiji.”

Akaashi - _Keiji_ \-  takes a deep breath and he kisses Bokuto, slipping his hands under Bokuto’s undershirt, brushing their legs together. It draws a little gasp from Bokuto and he feels his heart beginning to race.

It’s easy to unfasten Akaashi’s _yukata_.

The body Bokuto has already seen before is now under the touch of his own fingertips, hot and _real_ despite how dreamlike it all seems, and Bokuto hums, caressing the tanned skin that feels soft, much like the thin paper to serve the sweets on, to Bokuto’s hands. It sends pleasant shivers down his spine, but even in the chilly room, he does not feel cold.

Bokuto’s never thought he could love any other person so intensely with his whole being.

He realises, it’s the best thing that’s happened to him in a long while. It makes him smile.


	10. -ten-

Bokuto thinks back to the letter he has once received from Kuroo, all those months ago, and he grins to himself. That’s how it’s started, with Kuroo, same as most of the best things in Bokuto’s life, and he reckons, that must be the reason why he feels confident about all of this. He looks at Kuroo who hesitantly flips the fish over on the stove, scrunching at it for a few moments before shrugging and turning around to face Bokuto.

“How’s your letter going?” he asks, trying to steal a glance of the paper in front of Bokuto, even though they both know his eyesight is not as sharp to see it from such distance.

“Does this sound right: ‘I wish you wanted to meet him’? Or better just this: ‘I want to bring him home,’ huh?” He hums to himself in thought, furrowing his eyebrows. Kuroo sighs and he places a reassuring hand on Bokuto’s shoulder.

“Koutarou, why are you so nervous about this? It’s your Mother and you’ve told her about Akaashi already. You don’t need to stress too much, simply write what comes first to your mind, what would you say if she was here, now.”

Bokuto looks at Kuroo for a few moments, then takes a deep breath and smiles.

“Thanks, Tetsurou,” he says, putting the pen into the ink, “I’m glad to have you here.”

Kuroo snorts, ruffling Bokuto’s hair a bit before returning his attention to dinner, cooking on the stove, before it burns. He's not the best of the cooks, but the smell of frying fish is already making Bokuto's stomach growl.

He still has to wait, and so he looks at the yellowish paper in front of him, already filled with black ink telling of his daily life, of his health, of the weather and nature. Now, letting his mind flow freely through the twirl of a pen, he adds more lines to it.

_I’m coming over in two weeks. I’m bringing Akaashi with me, that is if he can come. I’m both excited and worried about the two of you meeting, and even though perhaps it will be challenging for you, dear Mother, I find myself praying that he will grow on you and that you will accept him, and us. I can tell you one thing, he will absolutely love the onigiri you make, and I am sure he will love you no less than I do._

_I don’t know how exactly, but Akaashi makes me see the best in myself, he makes me stop worrying about my hair and he brings me back from my blues easily. It’s comforting to have him at my side, in all ways, and I wish it brings some comfort to you as well._

_That’s not what you expected when having a son, I am well aware of it, but, dear Mother, you have always told me to go after my happiness, to follow it, and right now, the happiness is finally at my side. I do not want to let it go._

_I love you very much and I always will,_

_Your son Koutarou._

-

Despite it being only November, the grey sky in early morning makes Bokuto nearly wait for the little snowflakes to start landing down right away. The weak puffs of warm breath vanish in the air fast, but the cold redness has decided to stay on both Bokuto and Akaashi’s faces and on their gloveless hands, clutching the bags.

The whistle of the train rings in their ears, a late alarm clock to their bodies, and Akaashi winces, squaring his shoulders as if that would help to mute the sound. Bokuto lets out a little laugh at his side and he touches his back, gently pushing Akaashi into the right direction.

“Come on, it’s our train,” he says. There’s a bit of reluctance to Akaashi’s steps when they walk to the train waiting at the platform, but Bokuto can’t blame him. He thinks he’d be no less nervous if Akaashi suggested visiting his parents; it’s a foul thought, but Bokuto finds himself a bit relieved that Akaashi doesn’t keep in contact with his family anymore. Not accepting their own son, there’s no way they would accept another man of the same kind. It makes Bokuto’s heart hurt, but he gathers himself, trying to redirect his thought to different direction.

“My heart won’t stop racing,” Akaashi mutters when they stand on the platform, waiting for other people to get on the train. Bokuto squeezes his arm, feeling his own heart beginning to beat faster as well. He’s not sure how they will stay through a few hours train ride if they don’t calm down.

“It’s going to be fine,” Bokuto says, but the deep breath he takes betrays his own worry. It makes Akaashi muster a laugh, though, and Bokuto finds himself smiling as well.

“We’re really something, aren’t we?” Akaashi says, finally stepping into the train. Bokuto follows after him with a hum, looking for the seats. It's an odd feeling getting on the train to go back home.

“We’ll get a good view here,” he comments when they sit down, finally letting their legs rest. There's not too much space and their sides are touching, but this time, sitting next to the opposite of a complete stranger, Bokuto's glad about it. As the seats closest to them are still empty, Bokuto even lets himself touch Akaashi’s hand. Even though Akaashi's skin is cold, the touch somehow manages to warm him up from inside.

The view is nice, taking both of them through the story of a kind as the landscape changes from grey buildings to little wooden houses, then to forgotten ruins and wrecks, and finally to fields with mountains far in the distance. There are still some oranges and reds in the trees, but the nature is ready to fall asleep anytime soon; even the rumbling of the train moving along the railway doesn’t seem to stir away the drowsiness cast upon it.

Bokuto keeps on talking even when they get off the train and on the old countryside bus, keeping Akaashi’s, and his own, mind occupied with stories about old trees, little forest paths and clearings that he frequented with Kuroo back in the old days.

It’s when he can already see the house in the distance and his mother outside, looking at the road, waiting, that Bokuto grabs Akaashi’s hand for encouragement.

He feels Akaashi stiffen at his side, and he hears himself murmur a soft “It’s going to be alright” to him.

“It’s going to be alright,” Akaashi repeats, like a spell, like a chant, and with the exhale of his breath, his shoulders ease. Bokuto clears his throat, and he raises his arm, starting to wave.

“I’m back!” he calls out. He is walking faster now, with a bit of a hurry in his step, despite the shadow of fear still lingering inside him. His mother waves back, and in the wind coming from that side, Bokuto can hear her voice welcoming him back.

It feels strange to hear his mother’s voice and it feels unreal to see her again after all the months spent separated. She looks same as when he’s left, her silver hair tied in a neat bun, her face slightly tanned and her eyes with nearly orange glint to them in the sun, so deep and alive, despite all the hardships she went through. Bokuto himself must look differently; he’s changed a lot during all this time and being well aware of it himself, he’s sure his mom can tell it from one glance.

Bokuto sees her eyes travelling from him to Akaashi, the biggest change in her son’s life, and before anyone can say anything, Bokuto opens his mouth:

“Mom? That’s Akaashi.”

Akaashi bows his head, and Bokuto can feel his hand trembling in his grip.

“Akaashi Keiji,” Akaashi says, lifting his head up. There’s a tiny, honest smile that comes to his face naturally, and Bokuto wonders what thought brought it up. Then Akaashi adds, “I am pleased to meet you.”

Suddenly, Bokuto’s mom laughs and Bokuto can see the relieved, joyous tears welling in the corners of her eyes. She walks up to them, and standing on her tiptoes, she embraces both of them in a hug.

“Welcome to the family, my boy,” she says, and Bokuto feels Akaashi squeezing his hand tighter. The sound of a little gasp, a little rushed intake of a breath, reaches Bokuto’s ears. He’s just not sure if it’s coming from Akaashi or from himself.

The autumn sun is shining shyly from the sky, its warm rays bright on the silver hair of Bokuto’s mom. Bokuto takes a deep breath and he buries his face in it, bending down so his mother can stand down firmly on the ground. She smells of home.

It's a small thing, but it makes Bokuto feel happy, and the unquestionable acceptance from his loved mother makes him feel grateful. Living in pain and sadness for years, Bokuto now lets himself believe that things can stay good, like this for a long time. He thinks, they all deserve it.

Akaashi is looking at him when Bokuto lifts his head up, and when their eyes meet, he sees the same emotions reflecting on Akaashi’s face. The worry from the early morning is completely gone from his face.

“Come on in,” Bokuto’s mother says, pulling away and gently touching Akaashi’s arm to get his attention. “Koutarou mentioned you like onigiri, my dear. I prepared some for both of you before dinner. Would you like some tea as well?”

She’s smiling and there’s a smile resting on Akaashi’s face as well when he nods, thanking her and asking if she needs any help. His hand is not trembling anymore, but still, Bokuto doesn’t want to let go of it.

When he left for Fukuroubashi more than half a year ago, Bokuto thought he was going to work at the auto repair shop as a mechanic, reunite with his childhood friend, and maybe, have a little more fun than in the countryside. What he didn’t expect was finding a sanctuary, a few of them, even though Kuroo believed it could happen, and he did never expect to build a bridge for his soul to connect with the one of Akaashi’s.

Now, stepping into his family home, the familiar smells bringing back memories from the past, his mother's chatting voice mixing pleasantly with Akaashi's, Bokuto might not know what awaits them in the future, but he knows one thing for sure.

This bridge of theirs, it’s going to hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone who read this fic, was patient and stayed with me throughout the story. Your comments meant (and still mean) a great deal to me and they were the reason I kept going, even though sometimes I found myself thinking if it's really worth writing all this.  
> I'm happy I didn't give up though, and this fic has became more than I expected at first, climbing over 20k words. I hope you found something to enjoy in this fic, something to think about.  
> Thanks for reading once again and thanks for loving bokuaka with me!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know your thoughts! Kudos and comments are highly appreciated ;;  
> If you have any questions about anything, HMU anytime here or on tumblr/twitter @fromthefarshore <3


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